Engagement Chronicles
by Slytherinchickk
Summary: Twenty six or more situations in which Oliver Wood proposes.
1. Artist

**_Chapter One_**

_**Artist**_

* * *

Oliver stared blankly at the white paper, ripped hastily from Sadie's dear cousin's sketch book earlier that day. He sighed heavily, put the pencil to the paper and drew a line. Only to erase it once again. He was never good at this. Never. He was a wizard, what did he need to know how to draw for?

He usually had the most creative ideas. And the one he had seemed at least remotely original. Original in a sense that he'd never heard it had been done before. But, alas, he could not draw and finish his master plan.

Sadarah lay asleep in his bed, covered by only the blanket and lingerie, which was strewed everywhere in every direction possible. She looked peaceful through the wavy blonde mess of hair covering her face. Her cheeks held a slight pink tinge. The only sign of any sinning they'd done. Besides the mess of the room of course. Oh how he loved her. Her scent, her smile, her laugh, her everything. He was an alcoholic, and she was his drug.

But to draw that on paper, he had no idea how. But he put the pencil back to the paper and drew what he saw.

Three hours later, he was still drawing. Concentrating on the minor details now, it had to be perfect. Sadie stirred in her sleep. Felt around with her eyes closed and sat bolt up right when she didn't feel him lying beside her. Sadie held the blanket up and looked sleepily around the room. She heaved a sigh of relief, and her shoulders slouched as she fell back against the pillows. "I hate when you do that," she whispered.

He smirked, and climbed into the bed next to her, subtly opening his bedside table drawer while doing so. He held the paper against his bare chest so she couldn't see. "I know you do, love. And that's why I do." He pecked her on the tip of her nose and she giggled.

Oliver put the paper on the bedside table, out of her reach. But not out of her notice, "What's that?" she asked. He shifted so he was leaning over her, trailing kissed down the length of her neck.

"You'll see," he sighed against the skin of her cheek.

"When?" she asked, as he kissed her. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, putting all her curiosity aside, at least he hoped.

Sadie ran her cold hands down his chest, sending shivers up his spine. With one hand, she continued to do so. The other tried tugging his pants down. He stopped her. "I thought you wanted to see the paper?" he asked, coming up for air. He tugged her and rolled over so she sat astraddle his hips.

"What paper?" she replied, confusion in her expression was evident. He chuckled and wrapped both arms around her back and gently started to lift the garment she was wearing off, but she wasn't having that now. "What paper?" she inquired once more. She looked over to his side table and raised an eyebrow, curiously. He meant to stop her, but she grabbed the paper before he could.

She looked admirably at the paper. He'd certainly drawn what he'd seen. She smiled and peered over it at him. "I didn't know you could draw," she said.

"Oh, I can't," he stated, blatantly being honest. "That took three hours of my best Charms work." She laughed and looked at it again. Oliver smoothly, and quickly pulled a box from his side table drawer.

Sadie's face contorted in concentration, then befuddlement. "Oliver," she stated. He raised an expectant eyebrow when she looked to him again. "I'm not wearing a ring."

He smiled and took the paper from her. "Well then," he started, "can't have that." He pulled the blue velvet box from beneath the covers and held it up for her to see. "But you have to answer me something first," he whispered. Her mouth dropped open in an o-shape as she took it in. He savored the moment. It seemed like one to remember. He pulled the diamond ring from the box and held it to her left hand, half on her ring finger, half not. Her right hand flew to her mouth in surprise. And he could feel, as she was still on top of him, her stop breathing. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

**_I've actually had this idea for a while. But writing this first chapter was a bit difficult. Sorry for the excuses, but it's how I am. More to come, obviously. Reviews would be wonderful(:_**

**_- S_**

**_P.S. Clearly I don't own anything but the OC character and the way the words are mixed together. So I'm not going to say so every chapter. Review(:_**


	2. Backwards

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter 2: Backwards**_

* * *

Oliver paced the living room. Back and forth he went, until he thought his legs would give out. "I can't do it," he muttered under his breath as he flopped down onto the suede sofa.

He'd bought the ring months before, and planned everything all out. But for months, the ring had been carried around in his pocket. A weight, though not necessarily a burden. He repeatedly backed out of asking for her hand.

"Yes you can," his father told him, taking a seat beside him on the couch. Oliver stared blankly at the fire grate. Orange flames danced before him. He twirled the blue velvet box in his hands. After a long, agonizing silence, his father sighed and stood. "Now or never," he said, before leaving him to his own problems.

At least he tried to help, Oliver figured. He'd never been one to get nervous all that much. He played Quidditch all his life. Nerves weren't exactly welcome on the Quidditch Pitch. Especially in a national league. They fought to the death if the Seeker didn't catch the snitch in a timely fashion. Never once had he been nervous then.

* * *

Later that evening, he was in his own home, waiting on Sadarah. He paced again, ran his hands through his neatly combed hair, and ended up having to do comb again. He'd tied and untied his shoes, numerous times. Wound the clock forward in hopes she'd get there sooner, before he chickened out again. His old house elf had come to make dinner, and she bustled around the kitchen. She often halted to check on him, sensing his distress.

It was only six o'clock. He knew better of course. Sadie's line of work, she often didn't come home for days. And she was always tired. Would she stay awake? Would she even come home? He panicked again.

The house elf entered the room quietly and peered up at Oliver. "Master Wood," she began.

"I'm fine," he sighed, running his hands through his hair again.

"Master Oliver's father has sent an owl, sir. Missie has brought the letter sir," she quickly replied, holding out a letter. He took it gratefully from her and ushered her back to the kitchen. When he got back into the deserted living room, he tore open the letter.

_Sadie is getting off early.  
__I told her it was urgent.  
__Good luck. _

And that was it. He tossed the paper into the fire and it burned higher, then taking on a vibrant shade of green. Sadie stepped out, carrying her broom and looking around as if she expected to see the place up in flames or something. She sighed when she realized there wasn't any damage done, and Oliver appeared to be fine, dropped her broom and crossed her arms as she looked at him. "I thought your father said it was urgent that I get here," she said. Oliver said nothing, nonchalantly shoving the box into his pocket. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head and looked down to his feet. Why couldn't he just ask? Why did it have to be so hard? Was it like this for every other man on the planet? He felt heat surge to his cheeks and squeezed his eyes shut. In vain hope she wouldn't see.

"Oliver?" someone distant beckoned. His eyes fluttered open and he caught the gaze of, currently, sky blue eyes. Sadie was pissed, that's how he knew. "What the _hell_ is going on?" she asked, helping him to his feet.

He must have passed out. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, for the umpteenth time, though now it was pointless to brush back into place. Sadie placed both hands on his chest and pushed him down onto the couch. "Nothing is _wrong_," he finally said.

She smirked and chuckled, whilst rolling her eyes at him. "Don't. Lie. To me," she replied, leaning in close so they were inches apart. Though she stood again and took her broom into the bedroom. She didn't come back right away so he slouched down further into the couch. Missie, the house elf, entered the room again, carrying a tray of tea cups. She asked if they'd want any, and he politely told her no. She left too.

Sadie hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to him. She wore one of his old t-shirts, her legs were bare, smooth, silky, and bare. She draped her legs over his lap and leaned back. "What is it then?" she asked. He wasn't being ignorant. There was nothing wrong. And he knew she knew that. He lightly let his fingers glide back and forth along her foot, her calf, up and over her knee, and back down again. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed lazily in content. He continued to do this until he was sure she'd fallen asleep. Then, he took the box from his pocket and retrieved the diamond ring. Pure twenty-four carat gold band, three crystal clear cut diamonds. He took a deep breath and looked down to Sadie. He smiled and she smirked in her sleep. Clearly she was having good dreams.

But the nerves were back. He began to panic once again. His palms got sweaty, so he put the ring back into the box. Gently shrugged away from Sadarah and walked to the bathroom.

He braced himself at the sink, and looked into the mirror. A haggard, sleepless, starving Oliver Wood looked back at him. Though he'd seen this side of himself for months now, it always shocked him to see how much he'd changed. He knew that everything would at least change back to normal if he asked. Only if he asked. Because there was no guarantee she'd say yes. He turned away from the mirror, and made to take a shower.

When he got out, Sadie was awake, in the kitchen, reading a potions book, and charming the muggle television Liz had given her to show a recent Quidditch game. It always surprised him also, how she found ways to make things out of nothing important. The television was only one prime example. Without her, he never would have thought to do such a thing.

He dismissed Missie and she apparated back to his parents house. Then, he sat in one of the kitchen chairs closest to Sadie. She closed her book and looked at him, trying her best to figure out what was so wrong that she'd been sent home three days early. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

Panic was an underestimated term. Nerves were a pathetic excuse. Oliver, again, pulled the blue velvet box from his pocket, opened it and set it on the table in front of Sadie. _Pathetic excuse, my arse_, he thought as the nerves and panic took over again. "Em yrram ouy lliw?" he asked. He tugged at his hair until it started to hurt when he realized he'd pronounced it backwards. "Me marry you will?" he tried again. He inwardly slapped himself. "You know what I mean…"

* * *

**_I hope you like this chapter. I should be updating within the next three days. _**

**_As always, REVIEW! It gives me incentive to write more.._**

**_- Sarah_**


	3. Cliché

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter 3: Cliché **_

* * *

Oliver unceremoniously scrubbed his already clean hands again, and again and again, in the silver kitchen sink. He picked up a sponge and scrubbed the counter tops too. For how clean his house was, any other wizard would think he owned a house elf. Not Sadie. Sure, she knew better. But she also knew Oliver. If he couldn't play Quidditch when he was nervous, he cleaned. A lot.

He didn't know she was there, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, watching with an amused glint in her eye as he practically scrubbed the granite off in haste. He strayed over to the stove, with his back still towards her. She grabbed her wand, ready to put the impending fire or smoke out. Oliver was never a good cook, most of the time. But when he opened it she sighed out of relief as she saw he'd just set the Chinese Take-Out in there to stay warm. Oliver jumped at the mere shift in the atmosphere when she pushed herself away from the wall and stepped onto the wood floors.

"Merlin!" he cried, almost dropping the food onto the floor. Luckily, he had steady hands with all the Quidditch he played. "What was that for?" He didn't seem nervous any longer. He threw her a cocky grin for the catch he'd saved with the food just then. She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed the kitchen to him. Took the tray of food from him and set it on the counter.

His dark brown eyes followed her every move with curiosity, determination, and a bit of lustful hunger. She left to head to the bedroom, but he caught her from behind and led her back to the kitchen. He'd put the food back into the stove. He locked the doors, and closed the windows. He then muttered under his breath, casting a spell to hide the noise that was bound to come about. She hoped up onto the island, smirking like a damn fool. Oliver came to her, lifted the dreadful Quidditch t-shirt off of her and slowly brought his mouth to hers. Though she bid him no entrance at first. He gently tugged with his teeth and seductively traced her bottom lip with his tongue until she did.

She bit back a moan as he tore away from her mouth, which he then took on a descent along her body. He tugged on the button of her jeans until it snapped. By that time his mouth was only lingering along her collar bone. His hands played skillfully on her breasts, still hidden behind her bra. She gasped. And he chuckled as his mouth trailed farther down. She arched her back, though it was a foolish thing to do. She succumbed to his will so easily. He surely used it against her. But then he stopped. Swiftly buttoned her jeans, pulled her shirt over her head in haste and stopped.

Her eyes wide, and her mouth hanging open. He just grinned back at her and kissed the tip of her nose before walking out of the room.

Oliver had only the faintest idea of what had come over him. First, he had been nervous as hell, before he knew Sadie had arrived. Then, he was bound and determined to get her out of her pants before they ate. And now, with a hard-on, theoretically, the size of England, he just left her alone.

He was confused. That was all. He had a plan. Ambitions. And wants. He _want_ed her out of her pants. He had a plan to propose. His ambition? Well, that was both of those things combined, at the moment.

He walked back into the kitchen. Not surprised at all to see that Sadie had dawned an extra coat, feeling a bit self-conscious. She sat at the table, waiting for him.

* * *

Hours past, and they still hadn't eaten. And Sadie was, surprisingly, still in her clothes. Which both shocked the hell out of him, and enticed him.

"I'm starving," Sadie _finally _complained. Oliver was a ball of boundless energy after she said that. Though he kept everything nonchalant as he casually walked to the kitchen, retrieved the food and brought it back to the living room.

He watched as Sadie grabbed for the fortune cookie first. Most of the things she did, or _they _did rather, was backwards and in hyper speed. But it was the wrong one. He quickly grabbed her hand, toying with her fingers until he got her to release it.

She was bound and determined to get it back now though. She straddled his hips and fought with his extended, over his head, arm until he fell back to the carpeted floor. She stopped to make sure he was alright, but only for a second. But in that second he shoved the cookie in his mouth, wrapper and all.

Sadie, still leaning over him, laughed. The motion vibrated throughout her body and did wonders to his own. Her eyes lit up with amusement and she leant into him and kissed him. Though once she'd gotten his mouth open, she pulled back. The damn fortune cookie wrapper being bitten between her teeth. He swore. And took it from her again. Though this time she simply picked up the other one. Unsealed the wrapper, he held his breath, and broke it in half.

He sighed out of relief. He'd been right. The shiny silver band gleamed beneath the clear-cut diamond, fell out.

He flashed her a crooked grin, when she didn't say anything. Her face said it all though. It was a mixture of shock, surprise and happiness. "Marry me?"

* * *

**_I hope you like this chapter. I should be updating relatively soon. _**

**_As always, REVIEW! It gives me incentive to write more.._**

**_- Sarah_**


	4. Drama

_****_

Engagement Chronicles

_**Chapter 4: Drama**_

* * *

Oliver Wood walked briskly through the hallway, down a corridor and through a door, still hopelessly looking for Sadie. The attempt was poor. And the thought of actually finding her worried him. Not for her safety, but his own. He knew this wouldn't exactly be easy to explain to her either. Not. At. All.

He was angry, through. Frustrated and down right angry. Why couldn't she just explain what she's thinking? Or, for Godric's sake, make it easier for him to catch on faster. For the last month and a half, Sadie refused to go anywhere near her cousin. - She might have gotten the wrong idea. He hadn't exactly made the situation better either, by telling her that he'd been to see Lizzy multiple times a week. A day, even. - Her best friend. Partner in crime, if you will. Oliver shook with rage. Why couldn't everything be more simpler?

He stomped through another door way, the room was mostly empty. It was only lit by the light of the moon, streaming in through the open window. He hadn't exactly remembered how long he'd been looking for her. But Sadie was sitting up, against the wall nearest the window, seeming to be fast asleep. He crossed the room and crouched down to her level. She looked peaceful, pissed but peaceful, in her sleep. Gone was the woman who wouldn't miss a chance at hexing you for any reason. Gone was the woman who wanted nothing more than to rise above the ministry and rule the Wizarding World. The world was safe, because she was fast asleep.

And a deep sleeper she was, always had been. Oliver chuckled as he carried her back to their bedroom and, literally, dropped her onto the bed. Still, she was asleep. He crawled in next to her, and watched her sleep. Occasionally, she'd mutter something incoherent, or reach for something with her hands.

* * *

An hour later, Sadie awoke. Oliver wasn't in the room. But in the kitchen, reading the _Daily Profit_ and comparing it to the news in the muggle newspaper. Oliver smirked when he heard the shower turn on. But when it turned off ten minutes later, and Sadie marched from their room, straight past him, and out the door, he knew he was in no luck of reconciling anything with her.

He got up to follow her though, make sure she was alright, but she hadn't even made it out of the house they owned. Her and Lizzy stood, glaring at each other, in the doorway.

"Sadie," Oliver whispered in her ear, realizing neither was going to make the first move. He slowly wrapped a strong but gentle arm around her waist and pulled her back and let Lizzy in. Sadie was shaking in his arms. Rage? Sadness? He didn't know, but he hated that he was about to find out. He spun her around to face him, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she turned her head, to continue glaring at her cousin.

"I thought you wanted me here," Lizzy spoke to Oliver, a sense of boredom underlying her tone. Sadie recoiled, she was still in his arms so she couldn't step back like she clearly intended too.

"I did," he replied. "But it seems I am no longer in need of assistance."

There was silence, as something clicked for Sadie. Something she was mistaking, terribly. "Assistance? What the hell could you need _assistance _for?" She air quoted the word, still shaking. Though she did turn to look at him. Her eyes looked watery, though he'd never actually seen her cry, he knew she was about to.

Lizzy took a step toward them, the heels she dawned clicking on the floor. She placed a hand on Sadie's shoulder and turned her. "You," she pointed to Sadie, "are such," she started using strange hand gestures, "an idiot!" She shook Sadie's shoulders to complete the effect. Sadie simply glared. Oliver stood in between them once Lizzy took a step back. They now looked like they could kill each other. He wasn't sure what was going on at all.

Both their glares intensified. Sadie, who was an extraordinary Legilimens, and Occlumens, seemed to be concentrating. Oliver recognized the look. Her eyes became glossy like she was lost in a trance and they would loose their color. They both were unmoved by what was apparent to be an personal exchange of insults.

Oliver dug his heels into the floor and rocked back onto his heels, his hands in his pocket. Though one was clasped around a ring, like it had been since he'd brought Sadie back to the bedroom.

He kept up a good front, calmly looking between the two for any sign of movement, when finally, Sadie flinched. Lizzy passed them on her way out, and said nothing.

Oliver moved to stand in front of Sadie, she hung her head. "What's wrong?" he asked, sincerely concerned.

"I'm," she paused, bit her tongue. Oliver bit his own, trying not to grin. She was trying to apologize for something.

She didn't seem to be getting anywhere nearer to doing so. He wrapped her in his warm embrace and simply held her. He wasn't stupid enough to comment when she did start to cry.

* * *

The next morning, Oliver awoke to a fairly loud bang coming from the living room. He lifted his head off the pillow, expecting to see Sadie, where she always was, beside him. But she wasn't there.

There was another noise. Oliver flung back the covers and dawned a pair of sweats before rushing out to the room. She wasn't there of course. No, she had moved on to another room. Everything was exactly as it should be, and Oliver was faintly suspicious as to what she could have been doing, without him, to make so much noise. Another noise. He called out her name, and a domino effect of several things loudly falling to the floor.

Oliver ran into the locked door of the kitchen, not realizing it was indeed locked. "Sadie?" he called. She didn't answer. But she swore as something else fell. Oliver ran to get his wand, and when he got back he opened the door.

The room was clean. Nothing looked to have fallen or broken. But that was the beauty of magic. Repairing spells fixed those kinds of things. The lights were faintly dimmed, and besides the early morning glow of the sun, it was dark. But there was also another glow. That of a wand in the hallway. Oliver followed it. Thought carefully and hard, concentrating on the task as he locked the front door on the other side of the corridor.

Sadie muttered a curse under her breath and turned to look at him, her wand light went out. He alighted his own. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice the image of hopelessness.

Sadie's eyes were red, and puffy. She had stopped crying the night before. He wondered what had happened to make her start again. She looked down at her feet. "Out," she sighed.

"When will you be back?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual. He knew, for all intents and purposes, she was leaving for good. And he was going to grab on to anything he had to make her stay. The diamond ring in his trouser pockets seemed like miles away at the moment. Sadie didn't answer. "You will be back, right?" He was just asking to stall her, that was all.

But she looked taken aback by his words. She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. "I have to get to work," she responded.

"It's Sunday, love. You don't work on Sundays," he said, stepping towards her now. She took a step back and clasped the door knob. "I-I'm going to see someone," she lied. Normally, she was a phenomenal liar. Now, not so much.

"Who?" he asked, playing along. Her jaw tightened and her eyes, from the light of his wand, turned to a more darker, deeper, blue, like a sapphire. She was calm, or relatively close to it. He let her think on that, while he concentrated on the ring. The great diamond ring. And that's all he did. Next thing he knew, it was in his hand, that was behind his back. The non-verbal spell book he'd picked up the other day was really paying off. He muttered a spell under his breath to unlock the door. Sadie took this as her cue to try and leave again. "Sadie," he called out. She stopped and looked back at him, over her shoulder. "Marry me?"

She hesitated, looked more on the bridge to tears now than he'd seen her when she was actually crying. She came back inside, shutting the door behind her. She crossed to him, looked him straight in the eyes. "What?" she inquired, pleading for him to repeat himself. "But you and Lizzy, I-"

"Shh," he sighed, shushing her. He showed her the ring. It was set in a gold band, with a dozen tiny diamonds embedded around it, and one set higher, above the rest. "Marry me."

* * *

**_Maybe its just me, but I think that was overly dramatic. But what else could it have been, it's in the bloody title! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I think I'm going to lay off the drama for now, as much as I can. There's so much it's sickening!^ But I enjoyed writing it anyway. Let me know what you think.(:_**

**_Reviews would be spectacularly wonderful(:_**

**_-Sarah_**


	5. Embarrassing

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter 5: Embarrassing

* * *

**_

Oliver kicked off his shoes in the kitchen, set them in the sink. He tore away the tight, Egyptian cotton shirt, threw that in the oven. His pants, were strewn across the table. His socks, well, one was on the outside door handle to their house. The other was hung over his bare shoulder, like a towel. He slumped down, lazily into a chair at the small glass table, only big enough for the two of them, and tipped the bottle of fire whiskey back again. Realizing it was empty, he threw it against the wall, where is shattered, and the broken pieces fell to the wood floors.

He looked around the room. Intrigued by a few pieces he hadn't thought he'd ever seen before, in his own house. Such as the clock, above a dishwasher, with the hour hand on the three. It was entirely wood, a Gryffindor Lion carved into the center, and a snake trailing around the outside, for Slytherin. Oliver did a double take on the snake, forgetting that Sadarah was indeed a Slytherin. He shrugged, oh well, at least she wasn't a Hufflepuff. Not that he held anything against them.

He looked to the table, where a million photos were scattered across it, from the time they were born, until now. Ones of them at Hogwarts, all moving. Quidditch photos. Photos they'd took when vacationing. Oliver selected one from the pile and held it up and away for a moment, until he could see it clearly.

Five figures, all joined in for a group photo, on a beach in Brazil. They sat at a table in the sand. Lizzy, Sadarah's cousin, was changing her hair different colors, whilst Draco Malfoy drummed a beat between two glasses. He was standing _on _the table, showing off, posing like some Greek God, half naked too. Sadie was on Cedric's shoulders, looking up and basking in the sun. Cedric, whilst holding Sadie up, was juggling. He never would have thought such a group could take such a picture. The palm trees were swaying in the background, and he would have sworn he'd seen a monkey swoop into the picture every now and then.

Oliver tossed the photo aside, after remembering the memories. He stood, looked around and crossed to the refrigerator, opened it, lazily with a wave of his wand, and grabbed another bottle of fire whiskey. He loved it cold, though he had no idea why. Sadarah hated it cold, maybe that's why he insisted on keeping it in the fridge, so he'd have it all to himself.

He didn't sit back down at the table, like he probably should have. Instead, he crossed the room to the hall, walked past a few doors and into the bathroom. Oliver stared at his reflections in the mirror. Counted, three. "Whoa," he commented, holding his head, and looking down at the bottle. Then he dumped the contents down the drain, and looked back up to the mirror.

"Good boy, Ollie," one of his mirror selves said.

"Elck! Look at you!" the other shouted.

"You expect her to say yes, looking like that?" the third scoffed. Oliver looked intently through the mirror. His eyes were blood shot, his skin pale, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept in days. He shook his head. "That's what I thought," said the third mirror image.

"Now run along, Ollie," the first continued. "Clean up… the house too. Your lovely bride-to-be won't be happy if it's a mess."

So he did. It took him a little over two hours just to clean the kitchen alone, but he did it. The only sign that he'd been drinking at all, was the half empty bottle of fire whiskey on the counter, and the bloodshot look to his eyes. He was dressed in a suit. And a muggle one too. It was to tight in places it ought not to be tight, but it fit well otherwise. He took a look in Sadie's full length mirror in the bedroom. He was way to tall to wear the pants the suit had come with. So he took them off, and the jacket. Strolled over towards the closet they shared and looked around, idly wondering when Sadie would even be home.

"Hey, you!" someone called. Oliver backed out of the closet, looked around. Paranoia was setting in. Oliver looked into the full length mirror again, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. It was better than it had been. He looked at least remotely healthy. But then his reflection started talking to him. "Are you ready for this?" Oliver backed up a step. "I asked you a question."

"Yes?"

"You don't sound very confident," his reflection observed, looking him over. His reflection sighed. "Well, let's hope she can settle for just looks." And then it stopped talking. Oliver waved his hand, and the reflection copied him. He opened his mouth and closed it. His reflection mimicked his movements.

Someone knocked on the door. It wasn't close to the room he was in, but it stung in his eardrums as if he were leaning against the door when it was knocked upon. Stupidly, he ran to the door, in only a white dress shirt and boxers. He unlocked the mess of complicated muggle creations, to keep the owner inside for all eternity, in his mind. And heaved the door open, "Marry- wait," he started to ask then stopped when he saw who it was, "your not Sadie," he concluded. Well, that was embarrassing, he thought. Then he looked down. What he said was no where near as embarrassing as what he was wearing. He looked back up to Lizzy's face. She bit her lip and tried her damnedest not to laugh. Her hair flashed magenta, as she is a Metamorphmagus, and she let it out.

Sadie appeared next to her, apparating onto the doorstep. "You were supposed to wait for-" she started, angrily at her cousin. But her face fell, along with the rest of her words, when she took in Oliver's appearance. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she shoved him back over the threshold, said goodbye to her cousin and came inside, thoroughly rendering Oliver in captivity until he figured out how to unlock it again. "What the hell was that?" Sadie spun around to face him, her blonde hair shimmering as the light from the windows danced upon it. Her eyes were a blue-green today, and full of a hidden laughter he was waiting for. He knew she couldn't resist. Not that he'd done it on purpose.

Oliver strolled leisurely into the kitchen, opened the pantry and took out a box of cereal, a kind Sadie refused to eat. Sadie had followed after him, mouth agape, waiting for the next strange thing to happen. She looked up to the ceiling as though waiting for it to cave in, then back to him. He held the ring at arms length, shoving the box back into the pantry. "Marry me, Sadie."

* * *

**_I know this is short. AND late. Which is why there will be two chapters up today.. *crosses fingers*... I'm hoping, at least if, I have time. Either way, six will be up tomorrow at the latest. (: So anyway, I hope you like it!  
As always,  
-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	6. Flashbacks

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Six: Flashbacks

* * *

**_Oliver dressed in haste. His Quidditch uniform twisting in odd angles from his carelessness, he made to adjust them. Only to end up in an even worse fix, as he fell over the bench in the team locker room.

He didn't bother to get up. His uniform was righted again anyway. So, he just stared off at the ceiling. It was paneled. White and paneled. Oliver strained to find something to compare it to. Like he did with _most _of the things in his life. His mind rested on Muggles. More specifically, Muggle restaurants. One that was in some remotely unknown tongue, at least to his narrow mind. He smiled as his mind replayed for him, the horrible memory.

_Sadie tugged fiercely on his arm, attempting to pull him off the floor of their flat, with all her might. He played dead, well relaxed, rather. Not a muscle in his body was tense. He was dead weight to her. "Damn it, Wood!" she shouted, dropping half of his body to the floor. She folded her arms over her chest and stood looking down at him. He placed his hands behind him and rested his head there, smirking back up at her, not understanding why she wanted to go out to a Muggle place. Even if it was with her cousin, and her cousin's new beau. He looked up at her, her jaw taut, she wasn't budging on what she wanted. _This was one of the few times he'd cursed her for being so stubborn. _From his level, he could see up the silk, form fitting, lacy black dress, straight up and over her smooth, like satin, legs to the lacy black panties she wore too. He'd gotten distracted, imagining her later, or then, perhaps, when he'd tug down the lacy garment, toss it away and… "OLIVER WOOD!" Sadie shouted, disrupting his peace. She wasn't standing over him any longer, but straddling his hips. It seemed he may actually get his way that cold, winter evening. _

"_Yes, Sadarah Lewis?" he rasped out, not meaning to drawl it in a hungry tone. Her eyes flashed with mischief when she realized what he had been thinking. He was quite surprised she hadn't before, her being a Legilimens and all. _

_She had leaned down into him, placing a soft kiss upon his right eyelid. She slowly trailed more down the length of his cheek bone, done his neck, and back up again. "Later darling," she whispered into his ear. He groaned in rebuttal, rolling over so he was hovering on top of her. She smirked, and winked. "Your going to ruin your suit Wood," she'd said, amidst a giggle. Then she had gently shoved her hands against him, and he had let her go. _

_Not a half hour later, they had arrived at the Muggle Restaurant. In America, no less. He never did understand her fascination with other countries. The restaurant was small, probably no bigger than their flat. They sat at a table for four, waiting for Lizzy and Tom, Lizzy's new beau. It seemed they might have gotten lost along the way there, as they were extremely late. _

_Sadie and Oliver had lost interest in waiting and had already eaten. But they, well he was rather, to loyal to leave when their company for the evening hadn't even arrived yet. _

_He remembered looking up to the ceiling. _One just like the one he was looking at now. _It was white. And paneled by strips of dark wood. There seemed to be a pattern in them, but once he started to trace it with his eyes, it seemed to disappear. _

_Oliver had sighed. Sadie raised a restless eyebrow, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand. "Tired, love?" _

_She laughed, and put on a show of mock offense. "Of course not," she'd said, then sipped at _his _glass of wine. He had laughed and shook his head, not understanding why she wouldn't drink her own in the first place. Though if he had to admit, somehow, her's always tasted better, no matter where they went. _

He was brought out of his flashback by a loud shuffling of feet overhead. Crowds were swarming in, his teammates were cleaning their brooms one last time before the match. But he lay motionless on the floor of the locker room.

He shoved a hand through his already tousled hair, and yawned. He wasn't tired in the slightest. But bored. Bored of the Quidditch game. There was nothing new or exciting about it. Especially not against the pathetic rookies their opponent had recruited, probably fresh out of Hogwarts. They wouldn't know a thing.

He closed his eyes and let the next flashback consume him, breathing in the scent of rusted cauldrons and potions gone awry. The air was thick, and it was more of a requirement than anything to breath through both your nose and mouth.

_Oliver tightened and loosened his tie, numerous times, in the heat of the crowded dungeon. Wondering, why in hell would the ministry choose to hold such a banquet for so many people in so small of a place. He clutched at the glass of fire whiskey in his hand, determined not to drink any. That was all he needed, to drink, and end up sweating to death. Sadie would be delighted, he had thought sarcastically. Speaking of which, he also managed to wonder, where was she? _

_He'd wandered aimlessly around the room twice, bumping into men and women of all sizes. He'd never apologized so much in his entire life. Finally, he found her, once outside of course. _

_She was sitting atop the stone fence, barely four or five feet off the ground, trailing her index finger around the rim of her glass. She shivered when she felt his arms on her bare shoulders. It was winter, and therefore freezing, and she wasn't wearing a jacket. And when he had asked about it a moment later. Her face lit up with a sudden idea, or a new plan to escape, actually. "Then let's go home and get one," she'd said, hopping down, pulling him along with her. _

_He had chuckled and placed a kiss upon her forehead, whilst shrugging out of his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders, she held his glass. She handed it back empty, along with hers, which was still filled to the brim. _

Oliver heaved himself up off the floor of the locker room, made sure everything was in order and picked up his broom. He pulled a broom servicing kit out of his bag and sat down to start on it, when he was hit with yet another.

"_Teach me, Wood," Sadie sang, her blonde hair whipping around when she turned her head. "You know you want to." She had smiled, picked up his broom, mounted, and flew off over the pitch at Hogwarts. She had been in third year then, he in fifth. _

_He'd grabbed an extra broom from a shed, not far from the pitch, and had taken off after her. They had spent the better part of an hour trying to chase each other down. _They'd only been friends at that time, but close friends none the less. Oliver laughed, remembering the sleep less nights in which he stayed up outside with her, teaching her to be a better Keeper. Eventually, and thank Merlin for it, she did. The days had finally came at Hogwarts where he could sleep again.

When Oliver finished with his broom, he called for his owl, and she came right away. Oliver scribbled a note on a piece of paper, and handed it to his owl. "Now Brazil," he started, firmly, "this has to get to Sadie now. It can't wait. Fly as fast as you can." He stroked her back one last time and she was off.

Two minutes later, Oliver heard a faint popping sound from the other side of the locker room door. Sadie didn't bother to knock. She never did. She waltzed in, only half dressed, tugging on a pair of jeans. "Hi," he laughed, when he saw her. She smiled, even though she was struggling with the tight fabric.

"Hi," she responded, buttoning them.

Oliver crossed to her, and reached into his pocket. "I have something to ask you." He couldn't help the grin he bore on his face, or the laugh when he saw the puzzled expression on hers.

"It couldn't wait until after the game?" she asked. "I was just on my way and-"

Sadie stopped mid sentence when he got down on bended knee. "Well," he started, now that he had her full attention, he pulled out the ring and clasped her left hand in his own, she instinctively gave him her ring finger, "this isn't exactly the most formal way of asking, but-" He looked up into her eyes, which held only a bit of humor, and loads of excitement. He flashed her a crooked grin, and attempted to muster the courage for the words he was trying to spit out. "Sadarah Aliah," he stated, most formally, especially for being in a sweaty locker room, "will you marry me?"

* * *

**_So this wasn't going to be posted tonight BUT whilst wrapping holiday gifts, I watched a romance-y movie.. And then I was in a romance-y mood! So I hope you like it. Even though it isn't majorly romance-y. Enjoy(:_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**

**_- Slytherinchickk_**


	7. Guilt

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter 7: Guilt **_

* * *

Oliver lay asleep on the floor in front of the fire place, dreaming of a riveting Quidditch match in which he was, as normal for him, the Keeper. He'd saved fourteen goals so far and his team was up fifty points to zero. They were in no hurry to catch the snitch, but if it came, then they needed to catch it to win, still. Oliver spun in the air when he thought he heard one of his team mates call his name. A gush of hot and humid wind sent him barreling in the other direction.

He spun around again to see the Quidditch Pitch was empty, except for a figure walking out onto the field. He lowered himself a bit, squinting down and trying to see. The heat from that wind was still hot against his left side, even though it had hit him straight on. He raised a hand to his neck and it was hot to the touch. Oliver continued to lower himself to the ground until he was standing in front of the figure. It was wearing a cloak, covering it entirely.

He quickly forgot about the strange heat on his left side and was trying to figure out who, or what, was beneath the hood. His first thought… was a dementor. But he quickly demolished that train of thought because it hadn't tried to suck out his soul. Then he thought of a death eater. But surely, if it was, it would have killed him by now. Why else would it have been there? Then he thought of one of his team mates, trying to make a joke. And then it lowered it's hood.

Sadie. He hadn't even thought of her. Granted she could have fallen anywhere under the death eater category, as her late father was one, she very well may be too. Her hair was pinned at the back of her neck, her skin was a sickly pale, and her eyes were dark and emotionless. Probably from lack of seeing her in quite a while. He hadn't properly seen her in months. He'd been putting Quidditch ahead of everything. Sadie folded her arms across her chest like she was trying to protect herself from him. "You need to wake up, Wood," she sighed. And then she was gone, in a puff of smoke. She disappeared.

Oliver rolled over in his sleep and smashed his head against a coffee table. He awoke, rubbing his nose carefully, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly five o'clock. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry. He quickly rushed into the showers, washed, dressed, and was out to the living room again before six. He strode into the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator, not noticing Sadie, sitting cross-legged on the counter in one of his old t-shirts. He grabbed an apple from a shelf, he bit into it and shrugged into his jacket.

"Where are you going now?" Sadie asked from behind him, making him jump.

"Merlin, Sadie! Just out," he replied, coldly, not at all pleased with being surprised like that. But then he had looked her over. He had no right being surprised when she had clearly been there in the first place, and he hadn't noticed at all. He sighed. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked, just to make conversation.

Sadie shrugged, but Oliver was already onto reading the _Daily Profit _at the small table in the corner of the room. So he hadn't seen. "Lizzy needs help planning her baby shower." Oliver flipped a page. "Maybe I could go skydiving," Sadie said, to no response from him. "Or run around Diagon Alley in the nude." Still nothing. "Or perhaps murder."

Oliver looked up at her irritably. "Don't leave the house." And then he left Sadie alone.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied sarcastically, once he was gone.

* * *

Oliver flooed over to, his once-rival, Marcus Flint's home. They were both attending a dinner held just for the Quidditch players and their families. Marcus' girlfriend, of the last three years, stood facing a mirror in the dining room, where their fireplace was, putting small dangly hoops in her ears. "Hello Oliver," she said, smiling, when she saw him through the reflection. He greeted her, and took a seat at the table, waiting for Marcus. "He'll be just a minute," Hannah, Marcus' girlfriend, explained. "He's been working on a new Quidditch formation all after noon." She smiled fondly. Oliver chuckled and stood when she offered him a drink, he followed her to the kitchen.

Marcus came into the room shortly after, tucking his shirt into his pants. He looked around the room. "Where's Sadie?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Oliver. Oliver's own furrowed. When it dawned on him what an arse he had made of himself, he ran his hands through his hair, methodically, until it was completely disheveled. "You didn't even ask her to come along, did you?" Marcus was scrutinizing him as if he were a cockroach on the ground instead of the only team member that got along with him. They had been good friends since their Hogwarts days.

Oliver shook his head and shoved both hands into his pants pockets. His left hit a case. Velvet, by the feel of it. He hung his head. The guilt was just piling up now, wasn't it? He had meant to ask Sadie for her hand months before. He had put it off, with Quidditch. Then, he had got so wrapped up in it, trying to avoid the nervous feeling he got when he thought about asking her. And it had all resulted in practically loosing her. He wrapped his hand around the box and popped it open, removed the ring, and held it up so he could see it. Marcus and Hannah looked on too, a bit frustrated, a bit confused.

Surely, Sadie would never marry him now. He was a complete arse for everything he had, and hadn't, done. And he knew that now. Why he hadn't realized sooner? He had no idea. But he knew enough that it wouldn't have made the situation any better.

Marcus clapped a hand onto his shoulder, spun him around and walked with him into the dinning room. Oliver simply looked down at the ring, ashamed. "Go get her," Marcus said. "We have another half hour until we're supposed to be there anyway." Marcus gave him a little shove towards the fireplace.

* * *

When he stepped out of his own fire place and into his living room, he wasn't at all surprised to find it dark and deserted. In the dark, the room looked more over less like a dungeon, maybe because he was suddenly so nervous he'd rather be hung in one and left to die. He shook his head and bit down on his tongue, suddenly determined.

Oliver stalked through the living room and into the kitchen, where the only light on was a candle on the window sill, over the sink. He turned and left that room, crossed the living room once again, and into the door of his and Sadie's bedroom.

He rubbed his forehead and grabbed the handle. Stopped, then knocked.

Sadie opened the door, moments later, wrapped tightly in a blanket she held up to her chin. She looked up at him, her deep indigo blue eyes were teary, though he'd never wish to call her out on it. Especially when he knew it was his fault. He pulled her close before she could say or do anything, like slamming the door in his face, spun and waltzed over to the bed and lightly let her fall back so she was sitting on the edge. She raised a light eyebrow, skeptically, and unsure of what was going on. "I thought you were going _out_," she said. Her voice pitched higher than usual on the last word and she covered her eyes with her hands for a moment. He gently pulled them away, and gazed deep into her eyes, showing her how much guilt he felt.

He knelt down on one knee. "I don't expect you to forgive me," he started. She let the blanket fall from around her, completely befuddled by his sudden appearance and what he was trying to say. "I know I can't change what I have done. But I'd like to try and make it up to you." Still, her expression never changed. She looked as though she were sizing him up for a straight jacket. And though he deserved it for acting so out of himself lately, he was a bit surprised about it. He took her left hand in his and showed her the ring. "But I need your promise that you'll stick around so I can." Oliver's hands shook as he slid the ring half way onto her finger. "Will you marry me, Sadie?"

Sadie stole her hand away from him, and he felt the reject rush through his veins as if he were suddenly set on fire. But she pulled him close to her and held him there. She was not, by no means, denying him. She was, however, explaining that she would not promise to marry him only to stay long enough for him to prove, to only himself, that he was in the relationship for the long run. And she explained that all, using her Legilimency, as she was to choked up to talk.

He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes again. Great pools of blue, so deep you could drown. "I love you," he told her. And he hadn't, ever, before then. Her grip tightened on his shoulders in sudden alarm. "Which is why I want to marry you."

"Oliver, I-"

He was determined to have her hand now. Even if he was driving her away in the process. But she had misunderstood. He wanted her. Not her promise to stay. Just her. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

**_I kinda couldn't wait to get this chapter over with.. But then it turned out great so Im lovin' it and I hope you do too! _**

**_Reviews would be absolutely spectacular!(:_**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**


	8. Hatred

**_Engagement Chronicles_**

**_Chapter Eight: Hatred_**

* * *

Sixteen year-old Oliver Wood stood, in the shower, allowing the hot water to steam up the windows and mirrors and soak through his Quidditch uniform, which he had given up on taking off. Tilting his head back, the water ran down his face, dripping off his chin. Some may have gotten in his nose, or mouth, but he was in two much pain to care. His left shoulder had been torn, clean, out of the socket, by a Bludger that his team's Beaters had missed. He'd fallen from his broom, and had walked off the field without a backwards glance. Oliver leaned in so his forehead was pressed against the ceramic wall of the shower. The cold tiles were like ice compared to the water. He heard a door close. He figured it was one of his team mates, coming to check on him, but all he had the strength to do was turn his head and groan in that direction. The frown he wore turned up at a corner when he saw that it wasn't a team mate, but Sadie Lewis, his girlfriend, of the last year.

She had her back to him, but she could see him in the mirror over the sink. "Are you alright?" she asked, shedding her jacket. She kicked it away from her. Oliver didn't say a word as he watched her, slowly, unbutton her shirt, she stopped when she had gotten to the fourth or fifth button; she had noticed him watching. She smirked, slyly, as a blush rose to the surface of her body. She finished with the shirt and continued on to the denim jeans, he was sincerely glad she had to bend over to remove them from over her feet. But he stayed where he was the entire time.

He turned his head again. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he looked back again, to where Sadie had stood, outside the shower, she was gone.

And then he felt it. A snap. But not a bad one. His shoulder had been moved back into place. He bit his tongue but he still managed to shout out in pain.

He felt immensely better, despite the new pain of the unexpected beginning to his healing process. He flinched when he felt her hands on his shoulders, she was standing in front of him then. She removed the hard armor, meant to protect him from injury, and his shirt. She massaged his shoulders as he just stood there, letting the water catch on his face again.

He looked down to her, noticing now, what he didn't before, she was still in her undergarmants. Red and Gold lace garmants. Gryffindor colors. He chuckled before meeting her gaze. She was, by no means, a whore. He had, with no better way to explain, dibs. But that wasn't the point. Sadie, Slytherin to her very core, despised Gryffindor house, and their colors, despite her cousin, and him, being Gryffindors. So he was genuinely surprised to see that. And not only because she was getting soaked too.

Sadie glided her hands down so they rested on his chest. She looked, longingly, into his eyes, but then her expression turned curious, and distant, as if she were trying to solve a difficult problem. He could see the searching of information play through her eyes. He placed both his hands onto her hips and pushed her back against the tiled wall, roughly, though he was just as surprised as her for exactly how rough it was. She winced and instinctively started to push him away but stopped when she remembered who it was. She pulled him closer by the belt loop on his pants.

He, a lousy four inches taller, towered over her, as he leaned in. They were only centimeters apart. He waited. But so did she.

It was like a game. First to give would, well, give. It was stupid really.

"I love you, Sadie," he whispered to her.

She chuckled a bit. "No, you don't." He frowned, as if to question her. And though they weren't touching, and she couldn't clearly see he had, with the close proxminity, she knew. "Teenagers can't love, Oliver," she explained. "Teenagers don't know love."

"Who does then?" He inquired, quesitoning her narrow mind.

"Adults," she responded, though she sounded pretty unsure herself.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to wait until then.." He let his voice trail off, knowing she would wonder what he was talking about.

"Wait for what?" she asked. He filled with pride, he knew her so well.

Then he lost. He gave in to her, in a rush of adrenaline, as he pulled her to him, whilst she pulled back to her. As if they had both lost. He hadn't thought that that was how it was supposed to work between them, ever, before.

His tongue danced around her mouth, she softly moaned. Delighting in the small, whistful sound, he was determined to get her to do it again.. and again... and again...

* * *

Wait, he most certainly did. He had recently turned twenty-five now. Sadie was twenty-three. He had carried around his mother's engagement ring for the past nine years, just waiting. They were definitely adults now, so she couldn't complain. They'd been through a lot together. From Hogwarts, to their carreers outside school. The Second Wizarding World War, to the funerals afterwards. But not just the general things only outsiders saw. There was also the break ups. The make ups, which Oliver would swear on his Quidditch ability were the most dreadful things that could ever have happened to him. Make ups were only a reminder to him that they had been apart. He may be a guy, through and through, but some things just got to him. There was always the fights, also. Drunken ones, where Sadie would spend the entire night and morning after, locked in a broom cupboard. The sober ones, where he would spend the next day outside the front door, begging her to let him in. But it wasn't always just between them either. There was great family disputes. Her father, her last living relative, besides her cousin, hated the idea of Sadie being with anyone. He was normally the center of all of them. Except the most recent of course, which is why Sadie looked so pale, so unhealthy, as she sat across from him in the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't much, but he had wanted to steal her away from Lizzy, for Sadie had been avoiding him ever since it had happened.

He just stared at her, though. He had been sure he would have had loads to say. But he was at a loss, now. Sadie tried looking everywhere _but_ at him. She failed though, as her, currently, grass green eyes connected with his, she smiled. It was a sight he hadn't seen in a while. He rejoiced in it, he smiled back and leaned across the table to play a kiss on her mouth. She pulled away, sooner than he had expected, though. Which was when he knew he'd have to act fast. He took a deep breath, watched humorously as he saw the sudden panic flash through Sadarah's eyes.

"I hate you," he said, as he let out the air. Sadie's winced at his words, and her face fell to utter embarrassment as she looked back at him. Those three little words, had attracted the attention of the entire pub. He wasn't sure at first. But now, he was sure he had meant to say them. "You make me sick," he continued, surprising himself. But then he understood, not only subconsiously either. "I worry about you all the time when I'm gone and then I come home to," he waved his left hand in her direction. "I hate how you smell like lilacs and cherries, the entire bedroom smells like it. It's intoxicating. And how you walk around the house, like its a castle and your ruling over an entire country, or something. I hate how _every _time I get back from practice, I have to hear about _another_ Potion. Can't you see that I don't give a crap!" Sadie was befuddled, but she leant back in her chair and waited for him to go on. "I can't count on one hand how many pictures of your family we have around the house. So I hate how you refuse to admit you have one; so many of your friends' families died in the war and you act like you have lost as well." That part, may have been half lie. She had a few photos, he had hung them in the kitchen, mostly of her and her father and her late younger brother. "I hate how you can go out with your friends and not expect me to wonder where you've been. When I go out, it's a totally different story, apparently. I hate how you come up with these Muggle things to do. Where the hell did you learn that?" He was practically shouting now. "I know you didn't pay any attention in Muggle Studies." He smirked, remembering what they had actually been doing, beneath the tables and desks. She was the only girl who would wear a skirt to that class, when they all knew they were to be using Muggle power tools and things. Sadie blushed as she remembered too. That thought actually reminded him of something else. "I hate how we never have sex anymore." An elder woman dropped her glass when he just blatantly spoke those words. Sadie grew more red. "Damn, Woman! Are you celibate now or something?" Someone in the back laughed, and he threw them a glare to shut them up. Oliver stood, holding onto the table, he hovered over it. "I hate how damn angry you get. Why must you be angry all the time?" He put one of his hands to his chest as he whispered. "I know that I'm not an easy man to live with," he admitted. "I hate how you don't think you look great when you clearly look ten times better," he continued, waving a hand in her direction, again. "I hate how something can be so simple, and yet you find a way to make it look like rocket science." He was calming down a bit now. He got more quieter. "I hate how you can reorganize something, and then five minutes later it looks like a disaster hit." He sat back down in his chair. "I hate your job, and how you stay at it for days," he face reddened too as it went on, "_we_ used to be able to go at it for days." Someone in the back whistled. They both ignored it, wrapped up in their own little bubble. "I hate how you root through my mind and there is never any surprises between us." Though, he was sure, as he could tell when she was doing it now, that she wasn't in his head. "I hate how you could listen to the horrid comments my family has made about you and still go on as though nothing happend. You really don't look like nothing had happened, like your not hurting at all," he looked her over and sighed, leaning back to dig into his coat pocket. He leaned in towards her a bit, keeping his voice down. "You lost a child. _We_ lost a child. Your allowed to show pain." A tear slipped down Sadie's cheek and she looked away from him, wiping it away with the back of her hand. "It wasn't your fault," he continued to whisper, "you didn't even know."

The people closest to them were the only ones who had heard, but within the two, silent, minutes that past, the information they had obsorbed had traveled, and now everyone knew. Oliver was faintly aware of the stares that continued, burning into their bubble, threatening to break it if it was the last thing they did. His parents, neither was happy that Sadie had lost the baby. Neither of them believed her when she had said she hadn't even been sure she was pregnant, before it had happened.

"But," he went on to clarify. "I love you." She looked back at him, confused as could be. "I'm an adult, Sadarah, and I love you." It took her a moment before she fully understood what that had meant. Her memory, though short, was strangely good with events far back into the past.. Say, nine years? He pulled the ring up from beneath the table and showed her. She didn't even glance at the ring. She got up and leaned over the table, capturing his mouth with hers. It was slow, deliberate almost, but he had his hand through her hair, pulling her closer, even though there was no possible way she could have, with the table in the way. He pulled away from her and stood so she wasn't leaning. Another tear, slipped past her eyes, and wiped it away with his thumb as he caressed her face. They were still merely inches from each other. He breathed in her scent, lilacs and cherries. Saw the small smile on her face. He sighed, "Marry me."

* * *

**_This is my favorite chapter! I've been waiting to write it since I started. But, alas, there are other letters in the alphabet that come before H. I wrote this quickly(I was that excited) so there may be some spelling/grammar mistakes. Let me know if ya find any? So I can fix em'. _**

**_I really hope you like this chapter as much as I do. And even if you didn't... clicking the review button and leavin' me somethin' would be appreciated anyways. I value all opinions! _**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	9. Immoral

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Nine: Immoral**_

* * *

Oliver set his broom up against the side of the house. He looked up at the near dark sky. The clouds were gone so he could clearly see the stars. The moon was only a quarter full. He shuddered as the cold air hit him, stepping up the stairs towards the front door of Sadie's house. He knocked lightly at the door, and waited for someone to answer. The lights were on downstairs, as far as he could tell, so he wasn't quite sure why no one was answering.

He knocked again, stepped back, and looked out onto the lawn. It went on for miles, entirely lush and green, not a dry or dead blade anywhere. There was a single vine on the side of the house, coincidentally beneath Sadarah's window. A willow tree, in the distance, by a large pond, swayed back and forth. The water rippled against the breeze. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplated using the vine, like he had on a number of occasions, being Sadie was still an underage wizard, as of the last time he'd seen her, she couldn't apparate to see him. She would be home for the Christmas holidays in no time, and he had a certain surprise for her when she did. But, only to surprise her further, he would first ask her father. Merlin, this would be some conversation. David Lewis wasn't exactly fond of him and his daughter's close.. relationship.

He turned, prepared to knock again when someone apparated onto the porch beside him. He jumped. Sadie stood there, one hand on the door knob the other holding a book up to her face. Completely oblivious to his being there, she turned the knob and walked in, her trunk floating behind her. He grabbed the door before it could slam in his face. "Sadie?" he called.

She spun around and dropped her book in surprise. "What are you doing here?" she asked, studying him suspiciously, bending down to pick up her book. He shrugged, unsure how to lie about that. She closed the book and hid it in a bag, slung over her shoulder, she walked down the hallway a ways and looked through an archway. "I'm going out," she told whoever was there.

"Not late, Sadarah," her father answered.

She rolled her eyes as she made her way back to him. "Wanna go out?" she asked. He shook his head, profusely. Sadie looked awkwardly around the foyer, rocking back on her heels a bit. "Fine then," she said, standing on her toes to peck him on the cheek. "I'll be back later." She left.

Normally, he would have seen the uncertainty in her expression, sought out the problem. He hated to see her hurting.

He strode confidently down the hall and stood in the entryway. He knocked on the hard wood frame to alert David of his presence. David didn't budge from his spot in a black leather chair, he was reading the _Daily Profit_. He cleared his throat and took a step towards him. About the time he went to open his mouth, someone stepped into the room behind him.

"Ah, look who it is," John Lewis, Sadie's uncle, said, smiling. "Haven't seen you in awhile, Wood. How have you been?" Oliver nodded in greeting and replied to the question. John looked over to his brother. "David, you have a guest," John stated, taking a seat on the leather couch next to David.

David put the paper down and turned to Oliver, looking murderous. "I thought Sadarah went out," he said.

"She did," he replied, mustering up the courage to take another step into the room, "but I came to speak to you." John conjured a glass and smirked behind it as he tipped it back. Oliver felt a bit lightheaded, and recognized it as someone rooting through his mind, a Legilimens. "I'd appreciate it if you left my mind alone," he spat out, irritated that David was being impersonal. David left his mind alone, like he was asked. Oliver could tell, he felt the same way when Sadie did it.

John kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and continued to smirk behind his glass, which happened to refill itself whenever it ran empty. David offered Oliver a seat, so he sat.

They stared each other down for awhile. David sometimes cheated, and rooted through his mind. John just watched in amusement.

"What are you here for?" David finally asked, growing tired of the childish game.

Oliver looked down to the ground for a moment, then peered back up at David. "I'd like your permission, or a blessing rather, to take your daughter's hand in marriage," he said in a rush. John spat out a bit of whatever he was drinking out. David appeared to freeze.

"She told you then?" David asked. "She told me she wasn't going to tell you at all. Actually, her plan was to leave your immature arse on the Quidditch field. Not that you belong there either," David babbled, uncomfortably. "But it's been nearly four months," he seemed to be talking to himself, Oliver just happened to be there to hear, "surely she should have left him like she said she was by now, or told him."

"Tell me what? What are you going on about?"

"_You _are the reason for the problem in the first place. _Your _the reason she's moving away to work for a different country's ministry the moment she gets out of school." David stood, pointing his finger in Oliver's direction. He thrust a hand through his hair. "Merlin, I wish we had sent her to Beauxbatons," he muttered under his breath.

John rose from where he stood and pushed his elder brother back down into his chair, before stepping over the coffee table and walking out. "I'm not sure-"

"Good. That's good," David interrupted. "You shouldn't be sure. In fact, you shouldn't be sure about Sadarah either. She doesn't need you, of course." He stood again and started pacing. Oliver stood, unsure of what he should do. Was he breaking down? He really didn't understand what was happening.

A short while later, after hearing about how horrible of a father David thought he was for letting whatever Oliver didn't know about, happen, someone apparated outside on the porch, opened the door. Her heels were heard, walking fast across the hard wood, towards the room. Lizzy stepped through the archway, a gold leather bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a white tee shirt beneath a denim jacket, and jeans with heeled boots. Despite what she wore, she looked outraged. "Sadie's on her way, somebody sure as hell better start talking," she stated.

David broke. "It's completely immoral. Not like she could even wear white. Jane would be happy to know her daughter turned out like her." David shook his head again. "Morals. Tell her not to, and she'll go and do it."

"David?" Lizzy asked. He waved her off, so she took that as her cue to leave.

Once she left, David picked up a pillow from the couch and tossed it at him. Oliver caught it in surprise, and set it down. "Damn you! Go ahead, marry her for all I care!"

"Dad?" Sadie asked, curiously. Taking one look at them both, one would think Oliver had ripped the mans heart out. Neither had heard her come in, she probably had done so when David had yelled.

David breathed in deeply through his nose, and held onto Sadie's shoulders. He shook her gently. "You can't wear white!" he yelled. Continuing to breath that way, he walked out of the room, muttering about it being completely immoral.

Sadie looked befuddled. She wrapped her light sweater tighter around her body and turned to the side so she could lean and peer into the hallway after her father. She straightened back up and looked at the wall.

Oliver opened his mouth to talk and found he couldn't at first. "I can't really explain what happened," he admitted.

She chuckled and looked down at her shoes. "You should leave," she whispered, "before he snaps out of it."

Oliver looked Sadie over. Head to toe. He could see her eyes were watery, even though she wasn't facing him. She had her arms crossed, loosely, over her stomach. Which was what made him notice that she didn't look as thin as she normally was. He cocked his head to the side, figuring he was just seeing things. She shifted from foot to foot, waiting for him to walk past her to leave. He took a step toward her, and she froze on the spot. She was just like her father. He couldn't help but look back up to her waist line. Merlin be damned, he thought. He sure as hell wasn't stupid. And if Sadie's father knew she shouldn't be permitted to wear white to her wedding, then she had had to of had a reason to tell him. "Marry me," he told her, out of the blue. It certainly would solve their problems at the moment, would it not? She smirked, and turned her head to look at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitorially. He nodded, more to himself for being proud of what he had just decided. "We can be a family." He grinned at the mental picture in his mind of Sadie being a house wife.

_Over my dead body_, Sadie told him, using her oh-so wonderful, not-invading-your-privacy-at-all knowledge.

_**Fine then, **_he replied through his mind. _**Mother of my children, bearer of my soul, key holder of my heart work for you?**_ She smiled, brushing a tear away from her eyes.

* * *

**_Aha! I've done it! You really have no idea how many words DONT start with 'I' until you go looking for one that does.. As you can see I finally found one(: _**

**_I'd like to take this time to thank my lovely readers, reviewers, people who put this story on alert. Thank you. There will be more to come, shortly. _**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	10. Juggling

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Ten: Juggling**_

* * *

Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and propped his chin on top of her head. She sighed and leaned back into him, closing her eyes in content. He gently shifted from one foot to another, swaying her body with his. Ever so gently, he brushed her hair aside and trailed kisses along the length of her neck. She chuckled as he blew behind her ear, gliding his hand under her shirt. He traced a shape or two on the skin of her abdomen, sending a shiver up her spine.

Sadarah turned in his arms, to face him. "Maybe we shouldn't go," she commented, sliding one sleeve of her dress off of her shoulder.

He rolled his eyes, and she stepped backwards into the window, pulling him towards her by his tie. Slowly caressing her tongue with his, he slipped her sleeve back up onto her shoulder. Her brows furrowed in frustration as she quickly untied his maroon colored tie, slipping it around his neck and discarding it on the floor.

Taking a step back, and turning on his heel, he left her alone. Once inside the safety of the bedroom, he let out the air he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in all that time. He let his head fall back against the door and he just stood, staring up at the ceiling. He raised an eyebrow, never noticing before then how white it was. Compared to the rest of the room, which was a mix of red and green. It looked like Christmas threw up. He shrugged, realizing that might be what Sadarah was talking about when she mentioned remodeling the entire house. She had hinted at the bedroom, now that he thought about it.

Pushing that thought aside, he walked over to Sadarah's dresser. He ran his hand along the top, before opening the second drawer from the top, filled to the brim of clean, unworn socks. Sadarah hated wearing socks. Where else could he have hidden it? Closing the drawer, he looked up to her mirror. Smirking, he popped the collar on his shirt, and looked around the room for another tie. Not spying one lying anywhere, he decided to go back and get the one he had had on.

Oliver walked out his bedroom door and was met with the brightest of lights he had ever seen. It cleared as quickly as it had been set off. "Hello Oliver," Blaise Zabini drawled, setting a Wizards camera aside. Oliver glared in return and stocked off to the kitchen, in search of Sadarah, completely forgetting about his tie.

She sat at the small, glass table, with a mirror in front of her, trying on a set of earrings. Suddenly hit with an idea, he grabbed two small boxes from in front of her and tossed one in the air. She looked up at him skeptically, setting aside a pair of bright pink crystal earrings, that were far from matching the Emerald satin gown she wore.

He tossed the second in the air, and keeping the pattern going, he dug into his pocket, and tossed a third box in the air. She smiled at him and shook her head.

"Sadarah?" he asked.

"Oliver," she responded.

"Pick a box," he told her, "any box." In mid air, he pointed to one. "Except that one," pointing to another, "and that one." She chuckled and continued to ignore him as Blaise strode in from the living room.

"What are you doing?" He asked, setting his camera on the table. He crossed to Sadie and kissed her lightly on the forehead before opening their refrigerator.

"Juggling," he simply replied, grinning at Sadarah.

Feeling him still looking at her, she dropped the jewelry and pushed it aside into a pile. "Since when can you juggle?" she asked. "Isn't that a muggle thing?" She looked over her shoulder to Blaise for an answer, but his cheeks were bulging so he couldn't respond.

Oliver shrugged, and walked away, still juggling the three jewelry boxes to keep her attention. He smirked when he heard her push her chair back, and the click of her heels on the tiled floor.

He turned to her with a devilish grin and caught each box before starting again; this time more slowly. Sadarah reached out and grabbed a box at random. Upon opening it, his face fell when he saw a set of tiny gold hoops.

"Those are ugly," he quickly said, prying the box from her hand and tossing them to Blaise.

"Your mother picked those out for me," she said, looking utterly befuddled.

He laughed nervously, hoping she'd never repeat his words to his mother, and picked up juggling again. She crossed her arms and raised a light eyebrow. She didn't seem to want to play his game anymore. He rolled his eyes, once again. "Pick one." When she didn't, he ducked his head and looked through his eyelashes at her, pleadingly. "Please," he begged.

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she picked a second box. She turned the box so it was open towards her; he couldn't see. But when her eyes grew to the size of saucers, he figured she had picked the right one this time.

Grinning like a damn fool, he cupped her face in one hand and pulled her body towards his with the other, after dropping the third box.

"Well," she started, just as he was about to, "that was creative."

* * *

**_Well hello again. I apologize deeply for the lateness in posting this chapter. It was a bit difficult to come up with something to go along with the idea I had for this one. But don't worry. It's done. And hopefully, cross your fingers, I'm over my writer's block. _**

**_This chapter is all thanks to my dear friend who invaded my dreams and juggled boxes in front of my face, screaming at me to pick one. So thank you, QueenOfTheGryffindorks. _**

**_As always, _**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	11. Keeper

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Eleven: Keeper

* * *

**_

The wind whirled around the terrain, sending leaves and small stones flying about the air. The sun was fading behind the trees, casting an alluring glow throughout the area. Oliver sat down in the sand along the inner edge of the vast playing field examining the remains of his old broom. It had snapped, clean, in half as it had been hit by a rogue bludger at a practice session. He had had this particular broom since he was seven. His team mates did not understand why he was taking it so hard. Marcus had even clapped him on the shoulder, agreeing with the rest of the team, he had said, "it's just a broom."

"Just a broom?" he had retorted irritably, "that's like saying a wand is just a stick!" Not wanting to get himself in any more deep, Marcus had left with the team, without another word.

Light, delicate hands grasped both parts of the broom in front of him, and pulled away from him gently. Not wanting to let go of it just yet, he stood and held on more tightly. "Oliver," Sadarah sighed. He looked up at the sound of her voice, his mouth turning up at one corner out of habit. "Give me your broom." His hands shook as he dropped it into her hands.

Sadarah turned away from him, and his eyes widened in surprise. Desperation struck him when it least expected it and he followed her into the team's locker room. She set the broom on a metal bench and opened a plastic covering on something beside it. She pulled out her own broom, a Nimbus 2000, and held it out to him, her eyes pleading him to take it.

When he did, he felt guilty. As if he were betraying his Comet 260. Granted, his broom was of such an old model, that not many used it anymore. He had grown attached to it and relied in it like an old friend.

Interlacing their fingers, Sadarah tugged Oliver out of the locker room and onto the pitch. He pulled towards him and she stopped and spun into his chest where he held her, leaning his forehead into hers. She chuckled, thinking of something. "You'll need to get used to mine until we can order you a new broom." She waved to four figures, making their way onto the field, brooms hung over their shoulders. She pushed him forward a bit, whilst she, herself, started backing up.

Met in the middle, he stood along side Marcus Flint, once again, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode and Elizabeth Lewis. The most unlikely bunch to ever meet together unrehearsed. Lizzy and Millicent, who didn't have brooms on them, skipped excitedly past him. Oliver glowered at Blaise, who, none to gracefully, returned the gesture. It was just a feeling he had, that Blaise hated him as much as he did. Neither of them had taken the time to prove their theories wrong.

Marcus cleared his throat and mounted his broom. "Well, are you two just going to stand there?" He kicked off into the air, followed closely by both Blaise and Oliver.

Oliver took hold of a quaffle, which Blaise had nonchalantly tossed at his head, and raced past him to score through the goal. But Blaise was much lighter, faster, on a Nimbus. He was used to the broom. Playing hard ball now, he smacked the quaffle from Oliver's hands and tore through the air to catch it.

Many times, they repeated that; finding more and more ways to cause harm to one another. Marcus sat on his broom at the goals, not phased by them at all and looking up at the sky. When they took out a pair of bludgers and bats, however, Marcus kept a keen watch on them.

Blaise took a bludger to the leg, at the same time one caught Oliver off guard, barreling towards his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. Despite their injuries, they found them selves laughing together. Not because it was funny, but they had finally found common ground through Quidditch.

Hours later, feeling a bit better, Oliver slid from his broom and strode with his two Quidditch companions into the locker room. The girls were huddled around in a corner of the room, their backs were to them.

Blaise took hold of Lizzy's hand from behind her, and she jumped at the touch, the others looked back to see them also. Blaise led Lizzy out. Marcus helped Millicent to her feet and they two left, separately.

"Oliver," Sadarah sang, once they were alone. She wore a mischievous grin on her face, as if she were hiding something. Oliver would bet she was. He could not help but smile back, packing away her broom. "Did you like my broom?" she asked, the grin fading, nervously. At the simple nod of his head, the grin was back, full blown. "Good," she went on, "I have a surprise for you."

He arched a dark eyebrow, sitting down on the bench in the middle of the room. She walked towards him, her hands behind her back. She stopped between his knees and dropped his broom on his lap. His old broom. The Comet 260 which he had previously destroyed only hours before. It looked like brand new, besides the markings that had been given to the handle over the year. Sadarah had fixed it.

Oliver looked up into her blue-green eyes, wondering how he could ever repay her. She leaned down and lightly tasted his lips before pulling away. "Sadie," he started, "how did you-"

He stopped talking when he saw her shrug. "It wasn't to hard." He noted the tiredness of her eyes, knowing she was trying to blow it off.

"Your phenomenal," he sighed, kissing the knuckles of her hands.

She brought them up so he was looking up at her. "I'm a Keeper." She giggled at her own use of the pun.

He nodded. "That you most definitely are."

She smiled and her eyes lit up, concentrating on his. "Marry me, Oliver."

* * *

**_Keeper is a bit expected, I think. So I hope what _actually happened_ wasn't. Enjoy, and leave me a review.._**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	12. Lost

**_Engagement Chronicles_**

_**Chapter Twelve: Lost**_

* * *

He tossed a book over his shoulder, the papers smacking against each other as it flew to the ground. He tossed another, as he flipped through a different one, searching. He set the one in his hand down on the floor as he knelt in front of the bookshelf, scanning for books he'd read within the last three days. Maybe, he hoped, he had lost it in a book. Oliver received a mental slap when he realized if it were in the book, the book wouldn't have closed.

Moving on, he lay on his stomach on the wood floor, looking under the sofas and chairs in the living room. He removed the cushions, and pillows, unfolded all the blankets. He cleaned out the fire place, then kicked himself for thinking he'd still be able to find the ring if it had fallen in there. He shook his head, tugging on his hair until it hurt. If he didn't find Sadarah's mother's engagement ring soon, he would really be pulling hair out. He didn't like that thought; he very much liked his messy hair that always looked like he'd just come off a broom. He smirked as he passed a mirror. Then he stopped, backed up, and lifted it off the wall, looking under it.

He traveled to the bathroom, hoping he hadn't dropped it down the drain by accident, he used a spell to check. Though he wasn't happy to not have found it, he was overjoyed to know he wouldn't have to screw around with the plumbing to get it back. He checked the shower, shelves of towels and other toiletries. He, next, stalked to the bedroom. He tore the burgundy bed spread from it. Dismantled it, mattress by mattress, still to no avail.

He didn't hear when the door to the bedroom opened, slowly, creaking on the hinges; he was to busy digging through the closet.

Sadarah took one look around the room and figured it probably wasn't safe to mess with Oliver; not that he'd ever been violent, even when he did tear the house apart, which wasn't often. She stepped over the mess, slid down a mattress, hopped over the bed and a few drawers to the dresser, all the while questioning her Oliver's sanity.

He turned as she tripped on a shoe, catching her mid fall. They both fell to the floor anyway. She giggled, at his pain stricken face when his head hit the hard wood. After a mess of apologies and trying to help each other up, Oliver seemed to be coming back to his senses. And then he looked at her as if she'd grown to heads. His eyes grew wide as he looked around the room.

"Looking for something?" she asked, watching him.

He shook his head, "Something shiny," he said, saving himself before he flat out told her about the ring. She set to work. Well, what work it took to get out of the room, without falling again. He followed her. They searched the kitchen together, then moved on to the guest room.

As he yanked the bedding from the guest bed, he perked up and turned to her. "You should go," he said, realizing it was stupid to ask her to look for her own ring. Hell, it was stupid for him to loose it in the first place. She almost questioned him, but seeing the crazy "I-need-to-do-this" look he gave her, she shut her mouth and left; surprising him when she didn't slam the door.

But he shrugged the surprise aside and destroyed the guest room also. He didn't leave anywhere in the house untouched. He emptied out their shoes. He even checked the box of tampons.

He was trying to fit them back into the box when he heard the front door open and close. Footsteps, harder and louder than Sadie's would be, could be heard through the rooms. Oliver didn't move. He just couldn't figure out why, once they were out of the box, why they wouldn't go back in.

Mr. Lewis rounded the corner, standing in the door frame. Towering over him from the floor, he looked around, leaned back against the door frame and crossed his arms. His face held no emotion, but a glint of amusement in his eyes. Oliver cursed Sadie's women products and threw them back into the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom. He stood, crossing his arms too.

Lewis cracked a smile. "You lost it, didn't you?" he said, though that came out a lot rougher than it probably should have.

"I don't know what your talking about," Oliver lied effectively.

Lewis glared, his eyes turned misty for all of a moment, and he clinched his eyes shut as a headache ensued. Good, he thought, Sadarah's a good Occlumens teacher. That thought aside, he waited for David to try again. He did, and again he was met with a pounding headache. Oliver grinned, satisfied.

"Well," David started again, "we have to find it." Oliver was shocked at David's use of the word _we_. But he didn't think of ruining the moment. Besides, he needed help.

After hours of non-stop search for the missing ring, they slumped into chairs at the table in the kitchen. Oliver used a spell to clean everything and put it back into it's proper place. There was a popping sound, as if someone had apparated, and a jiggle of the door handle before it opened. Sadie closed the door quietly, as they both watched. She held herself straighter and taller as she walked through the halls. Paranoia didn't suit her, so Oliver and David looked away. David got up, without a word, and once on the outside of the house, apparated away.

Sadie turned to him, a devilish grin on her face. "So, did you find this _something shiny_?" She air quoted his words.

He sank lower in his chair and shook his head, defeated. He was certainly convinced he'd never ever find the ring. Sadie walked around to stand behind his chair. She slowly started massaging his shoulders, working her way down his toned back, gliding her hands up and over his shoulders and wrapping them around his frame. She picked up his hand, toyed with his fingers playfully while he watched with a smile playing at his lips. She kissed his cheek, then his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Then stopped, and dropped something into his hand.

Oliver held his hand up, eye level, whilst she started massaging his shoulders again. She leaned in next to his ear. Damned, if he knew how she'd managed to find it. "Oliver, will you marry me?"

* * *

_**This would be where I apologize for being late. But I'm not sorry. Frankly, I'm overjoyed. So, because of this, dear readers, you will be getting another chapter, sooner than I had originally thought. But it is late because I was informed people would notice if I gave up and skipped L.. stupid letter's need to stop being so difficult to make up a chapter for though. Anyway, I hope you liked it. Expect more soon!**_

_**-Slytherinchickk**_

_**Reviews would be lovely!(:**_


	13. Mother

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Thirteen: Mothers**_

* * *

Pacing the hard wood of the porch, he ran his hand through his rumpled hair and sighed as the voices increased in volume; the shouting match continued. Sadie versus Jane, her mother; a person of whom proceeded to tell Sadie she was a "good for nothing, gold-digging whore". He tensed, waited for Sadie's rage to take over, but it didn't, and her mother continued.

"A mother at seventeen," she scoffed; Oliver fumed, standing rooted to the spot. "Your not even married! Which should tell you how long he intends to stick around." He took a step towards the front door, intending to go inside. Glass shattered from the other side. He flinched, in visioning his replica of the Quidditch World Cup, which his favorite team had won the previous year, falling to pieces on the ground.

At that moment, he wanted to rip his hair out, jump from the top of a bridge, fall from one of those muggle contraptions... helicopter, was it? He shook the thoughts from his head, aggravated that he had thought of a worthless space holder instead of Sadie. He sighed, turned, and apparated on the spot.

"It's about time you showed up," his mother's soft but stern voice proclaimed. He turned, taking in the color change on the walls, from the green they'd been when he had used this room, to a light, baby blue.

"I went to see her, but..." His voice trailed away as he continued to assess the room. Two oak cribs stood on either side of the room. A changing table sat diagonally in a corner. Lights brightened the room from the ceiling. One wall was decorated with images of nymphs and Cornish pixies, dragons and centaurs. The other had appliques of broomsticks and quaffles, beaters' bats and a snitch or two.

His mother sat in a yellow, plush rocking chair, watching him warily. "So what now?"she asked. He shrugged, hoping she'd let him off the hook this time. Forget the guilt card, and welcome him with open arms, just this once.

She stood, inched carefully towards one of the cribs, reaching for her wand. He rolled his eyes. Sure, he hadn't been all to present within the last couple weeks but he wasn't going to kidnap them for Godric's sake. He'd been working his butt off, practicing for games. He couldn't help the inconvenience of being paid only two galleons a practice session; starting over every three hours had seemed logical to him at the time. Sadie couldn't keep down a job to save her life, he reflected. Not that she could try, she was still in school; or she would be in September.

Seeming to read his thoughts, his mum relaxed and sat back down. "I've been watching them while Sadarah works, at the Apothecary," she explained.

Oliver looked up, abruptly, startled by the information. In that instant, though, he was grateful for his mother. For telling him the truth and not keeping things from him. He strode over to the nearest crib, along the wall with the dragons and such. Looked down at his sleeping son, he smiled as he smoothed a patch of dark hair on his head. He crossed to the other crib; all the while feeling his mother's gaze burning into his back. He looked down again, tucked the blanket in around the baby, straightened again.

They were to thin, to light, to pale, to sickly. Born two months premature, at barely six pounds put together. He felt guilty, thinking it was his fault. Or Sadie's, even. He'd told her it was, too, in a fit of exhaustion, staying up all night at St. Mungo', waiting for a healer to tell them what was going on with the boys. And he'd left them there, flew to the Quidditch pitch where he practiced, for a game, then slept at Marcus Flint's house because he'd been to afraid to face Sadie again.

Besides the point, he'd come back, every night, to check and make sure they'd been alright. While Sadie had been sleeping of course. But he hadn't been there for anything important.

His mother cleared her throat, trying to get his attention.

_Good Godric_, he thought, slapping a hand to his forehead, he didn't even know their names.

A deeper, male vibrato, cleared his throat. "It's hard to tell unless they open their eyes," David, Sadie's father, started. Oliver watched as he crossed to him and looked down at the sleeping child. "Derrick has blue green eyes, li-"

"Like the ocean," Oliver cut him off, remembering the one time he'd gotten to see them awake, just before they started screaming for Sadie. "When the tide comes up and its a mix of sand, seaweed, and the water."

There was a smile on David's face, he could hear it when he spoke next. "James has Sadarah's eyes."

As if being called, the child they looked down upon, opened his eyes just a bit, fluttering them open and closed, struggling to get free of the blue blanket he was wrapped in. David helped him. The baby opened his wondrous eyes to reveal startling blue sapphires framed in a hint of gold around the edges. Oliver cracked a smile. If James hadn't already looked so much like him, he did now when he mimicked his expression.

He'd like to think James was just happy to see him, but "It's probably just gas," David finished his train of thought for him. Despite the obvious offense he should take, he laughed, heard his mother chuckle softly in the background. But his expression changed from joy to dread in the blink of an eye, when Derrick started coughing. It was a soft sound, he'd barely caught it. But all of a sudden, three more people apparated in, rushing over to Derrick's crib.

His eyes felt wet all of a sudden, his palms were sweaty, he could almost hear the blood pounding as it circulated through his veins as he watched, worried. Sadie took a step back after a minute, let the others have some room to coddle Derrick. She froze when she saw him, for a moment, wide-eyed, jaw dropped. But she wasn't the least bit surprised, of that he was sure. She recovered before anyone else could take notice, flushed a dull pink, and came to stand next to him. She reached into the crib, lifted James into her arms, turned to him with the brightest smile on her face.

It came naturally to him, the _wanting _to hold his sons close. He held out his arms for James automatically, as if he did it all the time. He was afraid she'd refuse to let him hold him. Though she hesitated, Sadie handed James to him, biting down on her bottom lip, trying to suppress the grin and the tears. "This," she said, standing on her toes to get a good look at his eyes, "is James Oliver... Wood." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Well, at least she'd kept her promise that they would be Wood's.

"Your just going to let him-"

"Shut up, Jane," David snapped, cutting her off, ushering Oliver's parent's out the door, as well as Jane.

When the door was closed, they were alone, Sadie lifted Derrick from his crib, keeping him wrapped in his blanket. She sat carefully in the rocking chair his mother had vacated and began rocking back and forth. Oliver pulled out his wand, conjured a duplicate of the yellow chair and sat.

She launched right in, telling him about the boys. Despite their early birth, and being lighter than normal, they were relatively healthy. They were already holding themselves upright on their own. Derrick liked feeling the vibrations of sounds on the radio, or when people talked or sang to him. James hated water, he'd curl away from it, cling to Sadie if he had to, to avoid it. Things he would have known if he had listened to his mother, Marcus' mother, Cedric's, and George's – all of whom he had seen at a Quidditch matches. Because the self prescribed guilt just wasn't enough.

All of the problems he had, _they_ rather, could have been avoided if he listened to the mothers, and not have left the _mother_ of his children to fend for herself and his boys. The ingenuousness of the female mind still irked him, but he was glad his sons would have a mother like Sadie, if not both parents.

Oliver shifted a little, dug in his pocket. Derrick and James' eyes followed his every move. He chuckled, Derrick tried to copy him and let out a little giggle.

Holding it up between his fingers, the boys watched the shiny object glint in the sun light coming through the window. Sadie stopped mid sentence. Her eyes grew wide again as she took in the thumb sized ruby, placed amongst a ring of diamonds on a silver chain.

She stole the words right out of his mouth. "Marry me," she sighed the words, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Marry us."

* * *

**_Yes, it's been awhile. I know. But there are twenty six difficult letters in the alphabet; M, so far, was the worst. Thanks, to all of you who have reviewed and/or read so far, I appreciate it, no matter what the opinion._**

**_-Slytherinchick_**

**_Reviews.. would be absolutely marvelous!(:_**


	14. News

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Fourteen: News

* * *

**_

There was a jingling of keys outside the door. They clattered to the floor as a female voice hissed out a profanity. Oliver knew, all to well, she'd forgotten her key again. He listened closely, waiting for her to use her wand to open it. But that sound never came, instead, the knob of the door rattled, as if she were picking the lock. Not a minute later, she opened it, bending down to pick up her key chain.

"What happened to your wand?" he asked, completely forgetting what he'd been trying to remember all morning.

She glared down to the pieces of oak twigs in her hand. "I... tripped," she explained.

He chuckled, rummaging through a drawer for a glove and another wand. Neither had used it. But it would hold Sadarah until she could get a new one. He held it out to her and she took a step back, nearly knocking over the chair behind her. "Can't I use yours?" she panicked. He raised an eyebrow, questioning her. Granted, they had deemed Cedric's wand cursed since he'd passed. Hell, he even wore a glove if he held it. They weren't even supposed to have it anyway.

She sat at the glass table, pulling a stack of mail from her bag. She pushed it all towards him, with a sigh. Something she only did if it was all for him. He sat with her, setting Cedric's wand in the middle of the table. Sadie began her normal rant about her job, her family, everything that happened to come to mind. He didn't ignore her, of course. But tuning her out was all to easy.

Oliver rummaged through the stack, befuddled to see that it wasn't all his. She, too, had mail. She must have been to angry about her wand, he figured. He set the mail aside and looked up as Sadie pulled the _Daily Profit_, from her bag. She opened it, hiding behind the paper. He checked the date on the front and scowled when he saw the previous day's date. "Where's today's?" he asked, trying to seem calm about it. She shrugged, and set the paper down, reaching out for Cedric's wand, then pulling away before she could touch it.

"It won't bite you," he said, chuckling at their own joke. Cedric had charmed some of his belongings to bite at a human touch. Hence, why they used gloves. She rolled her eyes at him, and he handed over his own wand.

Being Sadarah, she had to test it, then and there. She waved it, muttering a spell under her breath as he tipped a cup of coffee back. It exploded over his face and clothes, soaking him thoroughly with hot liquid. He jumped up, squeezing his eyes shut as it burned his lower anatomy.

When he opened his eyes, she had a hand over her mouth, her dark green eyes wide and laughing as she looked at his. She burst into a fit of giggles, and he couldn't help but laugh to as he made a dash for the shower.

He stripped, throwing his shirt, trousers, and boxers where ever they happened to land. He didn't make time to close the door behind him either. He walked into the shower, turning knobs so the water would start. He jumped back, feeling the cold stinging on his skin.

The burning ceased and he let his held fall back as he stood, enjoying the steam now emitted around the shower, fogging up the glass so all he could see was figures through it. Or _a_ figure. He swished away the hot water fogging the door. Sadarah sat on the window sill, reading the paper again. He chuckled, somehow finding it funny that she didn't mind sharing the bathroom with him like most women would.

They shouted, talking over the water of the shower as he washed, rinsed, and repeated and she flipped through the news.

He turned off the spigot, just in time to hear her breath catch. He walked out, pulling a towel off a shelf near the sink and wrapping it around his lower half. "What?" he asked, oblivious. He turned to the mirror. Picking up a razor he began to shave away the stubble along his jaw. "Could you check the game schedule," he went on, "there might be another game this weekend," he continued to babble, "but Flint didn't call so-"

"Oliver?" He turned abruptly when she said his name, accidentally cutting himself with the blade. He sucked in a breath, and she giggled, hopping off the sill. She folded the paper back so the inside was showing, and turned it so he could see.

Well, at least they had down what he'd asked. A picture, of him and her the previous fall. She was on his back. They were both grinning from ear to ear after the tremendous win his team had earned. He in his muddy Quidditch uniform and she in a warm coat and jeans, and a ridiculous looking french hat. He couldn't place the name of that at the moment. Above it, read "_Engagement_ _Announcements_". And below it, "_Mr. and Mrs. Wood and Mr. Lewis are happy to announce the engagement of their children, Oliver Wood, reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United, and Sadarah Aliah Lewis, Potions Master in the Department of Mysteries. Sadarah, proceeded Oliver's 1995 graduation with one in 1997 from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Both with exceptional N.E.W.T. Scores. The couple will wed June 23__rd_."

Oliver bit back the smirk he had playing at the corners of his mouth. Sadie cocked her head and looked at the paper again, to shocked to say anything.

"This would probably be where I ask, or beg, for your hand in marriage," he said, trying his damnedest not to laugh.

"Well," she dropped the paper, "you don't have to beg."

* * *

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	15. Ouch

**_Engagement Chronicles_**

**_Chapter Fifteen: Ouch _**

* * *

"I bet-" _Oh, here we go again, _she thought, rolling her eyes. She'd known this was going to happen, the second after agreeing to play Quidditch with him and his team mates today. As always, the game started off friendly. Rose to utterly insulting. Peaked at near violence. And started plummeting in a spiral of bets, which just so happened to be physically impossible. The need to kill each other when the game didn't play to their advantage astounded her.

If only she had something better to occupy her time. Instead, however, she was stuck in the middle, breaking up a fight that was about to be brought on. Quite literally.

She held Marcus back, with her hand on his forehead, trying to push him away. The other hand had Oliver by the front of his robes, as she tried to hold him back also. Her attempts didn't hold for long, as Oliver reached and physically picked her up and moved her to the side, before succumbing to a series of blows from Marcus. He fought back, of course, sending his right fist straight to Marcus's jaw.

Marcus kneed Oliver, doubling him over in agony. Sadie took that moment to reach forward and grab hold of his shoulder before abruptly shutting her eyes and turning on the spot.

Fortunately, her feeble attempt to apparate worked. Unfortunately, though, she flinched as she looked down at Oliver, who was clutching his forearm and biting his tongue, moaning in pain. _Splinched_, she panicked, dropping her wand onto the stone floor.

People crowded around. But, to her dismay, no one tried to help. And what the bloody hell was she supposed to do? She was no healer. She didn't know how to fix this. She wrung her hands out, trying to think of something, anything really, that could help, when someone stepped forward from the crowd and crouched next to Oliver, removing a small vial of honey colored liquid from his tattered robes. She stepped closer, getting a better look at the bloody mess that was Oliver Wood. She was just beginning to calm down when his head lolled back onto the floor.

* * *

He blinked furiously, wrinkling his nose at the blinding light, but stared up at the four silhouettes leaning over him anyway. He squinted, trying to make out the faces.

"Good, he's awake," one said, stepping away. If Oliver wasn't mistaken, which wouldn't surprise him in the least that he was, the voice belonged to Mr. Weasley. He sighed, proven correct when he followed the figure with his eyes and noticed the flaming red hair beneath his hat. The others moved away too.

George and Fred Weasley, sat back on their haunches to his left, and Sadarah stood at his feet. She looked guilty. A part of him told her she ought to, she's the one that apparated, and had grabbed hold of him just before hand, apparently with no particular place in mind. It was her fault he was splinched. But, she felt guilty, as he could plainly see. She knew she screwed up. The other part of him sympathized with her for the faulty attempt. They both knew how horrible she was at it. However, he couldn't seem to remember why she'd had to.

He sat up, shocked at all the faces watching them. He looked around, trying to place where they were. Stone floors, columns that reached the ceiling, fireplace grates burning a bright green as wizards stepped out, dressed in suits and dress robes. Elevators and flying note cards. And posters of Harry Potter; Undesirable No. 1 covering every inch of the wall. The Ministry of Magic. Lovely, just lovely.

"You should be fine," Mr. Weasley continued.

"Just a few scratches," Fred added.

"A pity really, you'll be scaring away the ladies now," George joked. His right hand flew to his face, feeling for a gash or scar. Fred and George shared a laugh. George patted his shoulder. "Only joking, mate," he pointed to Oliver's arm, "'Might have to lay off Quidditch for awhile though."

Oliver's face fell as he looked down at his left arm, bright pink scars were visible from his wrist to his biceps, twisting and turning in every direction. This, he thought, would definitely hurt in the morning. He nodded is head, trying to push Quidditch from the front of his mind, for at least a few minutes, as he stood.

Sadarah took a step forward, ready in case something else traumatic happened, watching him cautiously. He chuckled and pulled her towards him with a sigh as she wrapped her arms around his torso and tightly squeezed. "Where were we?" he asked, openly curious.

"Quidditch pitch," George supplied, digging a watch from his maroon vest's pocket.

He nodded, and pulled back when he placed his left arm on Sadarah's back and a sharp pain went through his arm.

Sadarah looked sympathetic at first, when she realized the amount of pain she caused. But she seemed to be remembering something. He could almost see the gears turning in her ever-complicated mind. Her forehead creased, and she glared at him. "You.. you little.. you bloody.. you-" She couldn't seem to come up with something to call him.

"You drag me to that _damn _pitch and make me play and then you start that _bloody _fight like you always do. And everyone cheers like they always do. And I try to drag _you_ away like _I_ always do. And then you get _splinched_. Why the hell would you do such a thing? Are you insane? Are you trying to drive me there? 'Cause it's working. One more time, Oliver.." she paused, stepped forward and stood on her toes, so she was on the same eye level as him. "One more _bloody_ time, and I swear I'll kill you myself, if they don't," she whispered.

The irony that his getting splinched was all of a sudden his own fault, was not missed on him. He wouldn't argue; the last thing he needed to do was make her even more angry. He would have believed her threat if it wasn't for the smirk tilting on the edge of her mouth, and the single tear falling from her eye. He lifted his hand and wiped it away. "So I guess we aren't going to dinner this evening, then?" he tried to be smooth about it.

The smirk on her face was gone in that second as her hand met the side of his face. The smacking sound echoed in his ears. "I wouldn't go to dinner with you if you were the last male on Earth!" she shouted, and turned to walk away.

"Fine, I'll ask now!" he shouted back, she paused slightly in her stride towards a fire grate. "Will you marry me?" he continued.

"No!" she shouted back, not that he believed she sounded anymore convinced of her answer than he was.

"How about now?" he asked again.

This time, she turned and made an obscene gesture with her hands, that sent a pang, straight to his chest, before disappearing in the green flames.

"Love hurts," Fred said, as he and George clapped him on either shoulder, sending shock nerves down his arms.

He flinched internally, "Ouch."

* * *

**_And I'm back! How about them apples? I was watching Deathly Hallows Part One last week, and was going to write a one-shot about a character getting Splinched... but it turned into a chapter for Engagement Chronicles. Funny how writing works.._**

**_Anyhow, I'd love any feedback, be it good or bad. _**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	16. Piña Colada

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Sixteen: Piña** **Colada**_

* * *

Oliver sipped at the foaming glass, tipping a bottle over into another. A knock sounded behind him, and he turned, spilling a cream liquid down the front of his chest. Half naked, he instantly felt sticky, and cold as the ice followed the drink.

"Drinking alone, Wood," Sadarah observed from the doorway. She leaned against it, her arms crossed, wearing nothing but a button-down and a pair of his boxers, her hair a tangled mess, and a smirk planted firmly on her lips.

"Of course not," he replied, rolling his eyes as he tried to turn to pour the glass again. But he couldn't. His feet were planted firmly on the the ground. He looked down, then up again, to watch Sadarah's grin broaden as she twirled her wand in her hand.

"A bit sticky, isn't it, Wood?" she teased, sarcastically.

He chuckled, trying to lift his foot from the ground. His muscles tensed against the strain, but besides that, nothing happened. "Just a bit," he replied smoothly, leaning over to set the glass on a table. He stood back up, in his spot. Not that he really had a choice in the matter. "Is there a point to this, Lewis?" he asked, starring at his feet.

"No, Wood," she replied, slipping into the room, lying down on a sage colored chaise lounge. "Not really," she continued, looking around curiously. It was then that he'd remembered that she wasn't quite aware of the situation.

The Wizarding World was in a dark time. Everyone was afraid. People had scattered the day Voldemort was spotted by the Minister of Magic. Oliver had known he was back, like a small portion of wizards and witches, he'd believed Harry Potter when he'd said so, mostly in part to Him coming back and killing Cedric. Everything becomes real, when your closest friend is killed by the enemy. Which is why he'd taken Sadie with him into hiding.. conveniently not telling her where they were going, or even why, for fear she'd simply leave. He knew she would, too. Damn Lewis', he shook his head, smirking at the thought. Stubborn and pig-headed, every last one of them. Besides the point, there was no getting out of it this time. Putting off telling her was not going to work anymore.

But it wasn't what she wanted to talk about apparently. Not this time, at least.

"I like it here. It's brighter," she commented loosely, twirling a blonde lock between her fingers. Oliver would have crossed to her then, if he wasn't still stuck to the floor. She was right of course, as he did the only logical thing and looked around. The walls in this particular room were a bright yellow, like sunshine. "Could we stay?" she asked.

His eyebrows receded into his hairline, surprised. "Sure." His reply delayed by confusion. He swayed from side to side, confused and waiting for the next move, which definitely would not be his.

"What kind of wizard are you?" Sadarah asked, her head turning towards him on the pillow, a bemused expression upon her face. Today was not his day, apparently, considering he had no idea what she'd been talking about.

Sighing, Sadie leapt from her spot on the sofa and strode over to him, one hand fisted around her wand, and if he could have backed up, he would have. However, he had nothing to fear. Quite the opposite actually. Sadie stuck her hand down his pockets. No warning at all. Her hand was cold against his side, searching for a _magic _ridden wand that wasn't there. She huffed, pulling her hands out of his pocket at his smirk. "Looking for something?" he asked, at the same time that she inquired about the whereabouts of his actual wand.

He looked around, mockingly, his eyes settling on the window sill, white curtains billowing about it in the breeze. She strode over, rolling her eyes, as she pushed back the curtain. He couldn't see much as she leaned over and grabbed something. But when she came back, her expression made him laugh.

His wand, was centered in the middle of a wine glass. She tipped it over, but the wand stayed firmly in place. Two could play at this game. However, he'd planned this. Apparently, her's was a spur of the moment decision. Her eyebrows furrowed in agitation as she shook it, hoping it'd fall out. Nothing happened. He'd pay for it later, but right now his laughter rang out, whole and hearty, at her dumbfounded expression.

She brought it to him, furious, complaining to him about how he was being unfair. He made a show of leaning all the way towards the table he'd set his glass on before, grabbed what was left of his drink, and poured it into the wand-glass. "Right," he stated sarcastically, "I'm being unfair." He pushed the glass towards her. "Drink," he said. She eyed him suspiciously. "Maybe, it'll loosen up a bit."

"That's highly illogical," she complained, pushing the glass back towards him, as she waved her was at his feet. A warm, tingling feeling spread through his toes.

"Where's the fun in logic?" he replied skeptically.

She sipped at the concoction, made a contemptuous face. "Where did you learn to ma-"

"Drink," he scolded. She rolled her eyes and took another swig. "Love is supposed to be illogical.."

She pulled back, with barely a sip left in the glass. "What does love have to do with this?"

"Drink," was his simple reply.

She rolled her eyes, and tried to pull the wand out again. Upon realizing she was no where near retrieving it now than she was before, she drank the last of it. She'd barely grasped the wand when it flew from the glass. Oliver dived to catch it, whilst Sadarah was left staring into the bottom, brows furrowed for the moment.

Oliver rolled over, preparing to get up. "Ta-da?" Oliver mocked, sheepishly.

She chuckled under her breath, and tried to fit her hand into the glass to retrieve the ring. "If I can get this out," she made a face, hooking the ring around a finger as she lifted it out, smirking. "Then the answer is yes."

* * *

**_Yupp, it's me again! Imagine that! It's a wonder really, I even doubted I'd ever get another chapter up. Anyhow, I'm not to impressed with my own chapter, to say the least. Just wanted to get this one over with. Also just realized I have bits and pieces of pointless information that ended up not being involved in the chapter as much as it was supposed to. But ya know what? That's Entertainment, I doubt I'll go back and delete it. _**

**_As you may have noticed, no where in the chapter is the words "Piña Coloda" mentioned. It was very vaguely described in the beginning. And I do mean very. - Completely besides the point, is it just me or are these getting more sappy as I add chapters? Let me know what you think in a review(:_**

**_- Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	17. QueenOfTheGryffindorks

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Seventeen: QueenOfTheGryffindorks  
**__Author's Note: Due to the very unlikely chance I will ever find a word appropriate for Q in this story, I've decided to dedicate this chapter to a fellow writer of mine, by using a a pairing of her choosing. Enjoy..._

* * *

Burgundy satin fabric danced and swayed as she twirled in front of her mirror. The light catching on the red in her deep brown hair and the shine on her high tops. Her head tilted to the side, her eyebrow lifting in contemplation. A smile curled her lips upward as she took another spin around, enjoying the feel of the breeze on her skin from the open window.

A deep chuckle pulled her from her trance. A man stood in the doorway, silhouetted in light, coming from the bottom of the staircase. He stepped forward, a smirk fitting perfectly in place. "Quite the show, love," Theodore Nott said, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt.

Elizabeth, Lizzy as she was known, rolled her eyes, looking back into the mirror, a broad grin flashing as she caught sight of herself in it. She was not vain. But dress her up and she could pass for it. She turned, admiring the dress from the side when Theodore stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pushing her hair to the side to blow lightly on her neck. She shivered and his chuckle erupted again, deeper than before.

"How in the world did you even get up here?" she inquired curiously, eyeballing the stairs. They were supposed to be enchanted so that no man nor boy could climb to the girls dormitories. Perhaps it was the house. One look around the room, showing the Silver and Emerald draperies, pledged her friend Sadie's allegiance to Slytherin house, not her own.

As if by reading her mind, Theodore replied confidently, "the rule doesn't apply to me."

"Just you," she said skeptically.

"Exactly," he enthused, "Now your getting it." He smirked again against her skin, trailing kissed around the nape of her neck, slipping the straps from her shoulders.

"So you'll never tell me?" Liz thought aloud.

As the words left her mouth, a deep laugh sounded from the stair case, a light, flirty giggle followed, and as she looked over her shoulder, she saw her friend dash up the stairs, half intertwined with Oliver Wood, ex-Gryffindor Quidditch captain. She threw up her hands in exasperation. "He's not even in our year! He doesn't even go here anymore!" Theodore laughed, enjoying her frustration. "How do you two get up the stairs?" she asked, once again, referring to Nott and Wood.

"This is Hogwarts, Liz, anything can happen with Magic." She rolled her eyes once again. She was so tired of the motion that she could practically hear her eyes turning in her skull. Theodore walked away to sit on a trunk perched on the floor at the end of a bed. She turned back to the mirror, suddenly infuriated by her reflection. The dress was shabby, her shoes were an off color, and they looked down-right stupid with the dress. Theodore lifted an elegant eyebrow, watching her in the mirror.

Then she turned to him, hands on her hips, her mouth gaping open as she opened it to say something. But she paused. Momentarily distracted. Her eyes caught on his, a light crystal blue. Her eyes trailed along the rest of him. Admiring his perfectly straight nose, not to thin, not to wide. His lips, just full enough to be delectable. His ears were shaped with a slight point on the end, but weren't to far forward to be noticeable. Broad shoulders held together his long frame. His torso nearly narrowing towards his belt line.. And from there, she reflected, it could only get better. He was to good. To perfect.

And he was all hers.

For now.

He needed a flaw. Maybe, she thought, disappointed, it was that he loved her? She doubted it. But the thought had firmly planted itself in her head now. And it was currently growing like a weed.

"Not a chance, Liz," Nott spoke, taking her by surprise. Had she spoken aloud? She couldn't remember. But she probably had, she often had that problem.

Her eyes traveled back up, slowly re-admiring every detail, from the tight pull in his shirt around his shoulders to the height at which he held his head, high enough for him to look down upon someone he disliked, but low enough that he didn't seem snobby upon first glance. She huffed, meeting his eyes again and looking away sheepishly.

"I suppose your ready then?" Theodore asked after a moment. Getting up and taking her hand, without a proper answer. It really was a good thing she was ready. He didn't seem like he was in the mood to take no for an answer anyway.

They walked through the Slytherin common room, Theodore's hand placed firmly on the small of her back as he tried to make her walk faster to avoid the awkward looks. She took her grand ol' time, of course, thinking that maybe if she made Nott angry or annoyed a flaw would present itself. She really needed to get that thought out of her head.

* * *

They'd climbed their fourth set of stairs when Lizzy started lagging behind. Nott, currently bouncing on his heels to keep moving, rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, as she sagged into a railing. "Why is it so far away?" she complained. "Why can't Dumbledore put in an elevator!" At Nott's confused expression, she rolled her eyes and continued on. "If you can get up the girls stairs, why can't we apparate?"

"Enough about the stairs!" he snapped, a vein visibly pulsing in his jaw and forehead. Her eyes widened, and despite the loss of feeling in her limbs from hiking up the stairs, she suddenly felt giddy. She laughed, aloud as they continued the climb. A first year Hufflepuff ran the other way, frightened out of his wits at the laughing girl clutching her sides as she was practically dragged up the next staircase. A Ravenclaw looked on worried. A Gryffindor rolled his eyes. And a fellow Slytherin of Nott's, smirked. And, if she saw correctly, he winked too. She'd been told quite the number of times by either Wood, Sadie, or even Nott that she had eyes like a hawk, if they were anything to go by.

Suddenly, Nott spun towards her, eyes flaming. "Shut up, and relax," he commanded. She was instantly aware... of just how stupid he was. That was his flaw, she decided. He overreacted.

Content with herself, she continued behind him silently until they'd reached an empty corridor. They'd walked half way down when Theodore had stopped, and spun around again. She was ready for a fight this time. But none came. Instead, he walked around her. And for a moment she thought he was leaving her there in the corridor. Convenient, she was really to tired to travel back to her own common room if need be.

However, he didn't do that either.

Just full of surprises, she thought bitterly, agitated.

A door appeared, and she wasn't as agitated as before, things we're slowly making sense for her. Just finally catching on. She drifted towards the door, curiosity winning out. He stopped her at the handle and placed a cloth over her face. Obviously, he couldn't see her face. But if he could, he'd probably laugh at the dumbfounded expression. "Who turned out the lights," she dryly stated.

He led her in by her hand, pulled back a chair for her and directed her to her seat. When he let her see again, she was surprised to see the room. Book shelves lined the walls. Peach candles lit up the room from many angles. The table in front of her, covered in a white sheet, looked like a picture out of a magazine. Heavy gold plates, sterling silverware, and covered dishes that smelt faintly of Spaghetti and Meatballs. Messy for a dinner date, if she was to assume this was. But who really cared. Any food was good food.

A clear vase stood in the middle, two roses left inside. One white, and another yellow, with red tips. She couldn't help the smile that played at her mouth. And Nott's returning smile made her grin broader. "I hope you like it," said Theodore, lifting the lid from the silver platter to confirm her earlier suspicion.

"What's not to like?" she whispered, as if any little thing might like a deeper tremor might wake her from this glorious dream.

He chuckled, and closed the lid on the platter when she went to take some for herself. Slightly put-off, she waited for him, eying the platter wearily when Theodore didn't move.

The man was determined to make a liar out of her. Every thought she had, he proved false. He got up then, pulling something from his pocket as he did so. He stepped around the table, and crouched down.

She'd thought he was tying his shoe at first, but then he'd grabbed her left hand. Her eyebrows disappeared beneath her dark bangs, her eyes widening.

"I was going to wait until after we'd eaten," he began, an uneasy smile plastered on his face, worry lines creasing his forehead. "But I need to know now," his tone was urgent, as if everything hinged on what she knew he was about to ask. What she knew she would say when he did.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she'd already beaten him to it.

His eyes widened in surprise, and a smirk faltered unsure on his mouth. "Are you sure?"

She smiled and nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, of course I'm sure." She rolled her eyes playfully as he opened a small velvet box he'd pulled from his pocket. A small silver band sat inside, encrusted with dozens of diamonds along the outside.

It was perfect.

_They _were perfect.

And there wasn't a damn thing she'd have changed.

* * *

**_Hello there! It's about 1am where I'm at and I, of all people, am to tired to edit my chapter; if there's anything major you notice, let me know. I really like this one. Despite its lack of Oliver.. It wasn't that hard to write, which was odd. Normally it just keeps getting harder to find a scenario to write about. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed (:_**

**_If you happened to skip the note earlier I'll repeat myself: _**___Due to the very unlikely chance I will ever find a word appropriate for Q in this story, I've decided to dedicate this chapter to a fellow writer of mine, by using a a pairing of her choosing. _

**___-Slytherinchickk_**

**___Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	18. Robbing Peter

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Eighteen: Robbing Peter, to pay Paul.**_

* * *

Appearance wasn't everything.. At least to him, anyway. To the Wizarding World, however, that was a different story. It seemed every time he stepped out of his flat he'd end up in the _Daily Profit_, scrutinized for whatever it was he decided to step out in.

It didn't bother him last week, or any other week, that the people of his world scoffed at him for the way he acted. Or the way he dressed. And it never seemed to bother her either, Sadie that is. Not a word about it was really mentioned between them.

Not until this week.

Sadie had come to stay with him for the holidays, bringing with her what seemed to be her entire wardrobe, packed into her school trunk, the latest _Daily Profit _in her hand. It occurred to him then, as he helped her unpack, that she just might seem to care how she appeared to the world.

Disappointment echoed through him as he plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, twisting a scarf around his hands and fingers; what was he doing to her _reputation_? His opinion was biased of course, as he thought about how most of the Slytherins he knew, cared only for how they appeared to people, always dressing a certain way, with no character or personality in the way they acted either. They were robots. And Oliver wasn't.

Somedays, like that day, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of sweat pants, evident scars and bruises on his chest from recent Quidditch games or practices. And he'd walk right out the door in nothing but that. He'd stand outside as an owl flew toward him, not a care in the world if someone from the _Profit_ were to snap a picture.

It never even crossed his mind.

But there wasn't much he could do either way.

The bruises and scars were in his job description.

He wasn't about to change the way he acted for anyone, even if they loathed the way he did.

The only thing he would change if he could, was his appearance; but the galleons weren't exactly rolling in, no matter how many jobs he took.

Sadie sat next to him on the bed, a small, carefully wrapped package in her hands. He hadn't gotten her anything for Christmas. She'd told him not to - Not that he'd listened. - That they weren't going to do Christmases for awhile, and she understood. "I thought we agreed," he said, the words coming out more sharp than he intended, as childish as it was, he wanted to surprise her with something and was angry that she'd come up with the idea to, as his hands felt the silky fabric beneath his fingers.

"We did," she replied simply, looking around the room, thoughtfully. They sat in silence for a moment. It was only slightly awkward, as Oliver's disappointment with himself grew as that moment lengthened. "Have you seen the _Profit_ today?" she eventually asked, retrieving the bloody thing from the night-stand.

He shook his head, taking it from her as she was about to open it, searching so the next article about him being _to poor for a professional_, or how he's always been _to shabby for the team_, as he was recently demoted to Puddlemere's Reserve Team.

Sadie took his hand, not quite pulling his focus away from the paper in front of him. "I love you," she whispered, her voice broken a bit, as he flipped another page and found what he'd been searching for. "It means absolutely nothing," she continued on, as he read, but he didn't hear her, trying to convince him the words in front of him really didn't matter to her.

This week, the _Profit_ had ingeniously come up with _Lesser than a Lewis_. The picture of him, had been taken not an entire day ago. And, indeed, all he was wearing was a set of trousers and a mud-splattered t-shirt. Granted, he was on his way from a Quidditch practice. Somehow, his excuse didn't help to comfort him as much as it normally did. And Sadie, in all her Slytherin Glory, not a hair out of place, was laughing in the second picture with a small group of friends.

The article went on to say the normal things, how he seemed exceptionally poor, etc. What really irked him this time, was the very last paragraph. _Mr. Lewis has reportedly denied that his daughter has an relationship at all with Puddlemere United's Reserve Keeper, Oliver Wood. Out of fear that he be connected to anything less than a Lewis? We can only speculate. Mr. A. Lewis, Sadarah's only sibling, has told us that, "[Oliver] Wood is practically selling his soul for Sadarah [Lewis]." Robbing Peter, to pay Paul, Mr. Wood? - We, at the Profit, would like to know._

"You can't honestly tell me this doesn't matter to you at all," Oliver spoke, tossing the paper a few feet away. Sadarah's brother's words helping little.

"Yes-"

"No," he stopped her. "No, you can't. Being with me could ruin you life," he shouted. "Don't you read the _Profit_? Can't you see me at all? We don't fit together like we used to, Sadarah." He felt her stiffen beside him, but he carried on, refusing to let up on how they should just move on, and leave each other alone, because society wanted them too. She could go find some other rich snob to live happily ever after with, make those _aristocratic_ inbred, pure-blood babies her father and the rest of the Wizarding World so desperately wants, because he wasn't going to. Pure-blood he may be, he didn't _act _it well enough for society. "I may not sit so comfortably on my vault at Gringotts, but I sure don't need this to make me feel worse," he tossed the wrapped box at the wall, it landed next to the profit, which was opened to another page, full of Pure-Blood family announcements.

He wanted to imagine his name in there, right next to Sadie's in an engagement notice, but his mind was far from that point at the moment. But he'd stopped shouting. She tried to take his hand again, and he yanked it away. "I love you," she said again, this time more broken, but more determined than the last. She moved to sit behind him, and placed two fingers on either side of his head. She pressed and kneaded his temples until his headache was gone. "I'm moving in," she stated bluntly, "whether you want me anymore or not... I have no where else to go." He hands kneaded into the back of his neck, trying to relax him, despite the fact he already was. He looked across the room at the _Daily Profit_ on the floor again, and noticed a picture of Sadarah's father, slamming his front door on the man behind the camera, he looked sallow, heartbroken, tattered. Just as Oliver appeared in the earlier photo. "It's not about the money, Wood. It's not even about how you use it." She nodded vaguely, indicating the rest of the flat. The walls, the hardwood floors, the furniture, all in pristine condition. "You have to appreciate what you have for it to mean anything at all."

Oliver relaxed again, his hissy fit over for the moment, though they were sure to continue it later on. "What would you like for Christmas?" He asked. "It may be a few days late, being Christmas is tomorrow, but-"

"We can get it tomorrow," she cut him off, he could hear her smirking, even before he turned slightly so he could see it on her face. He raised an eyebrow. "I want a license, Wood. A marriage license." He rolled his eyes halfheartedly, grinning like the damn fool he was. He hadn't intended to give her the ring for Christmas, he thought it to corny. But he retrieved it from his pocket and slid it onto her ring finger, not caring how corny they looked at all now.

"And for the record," she whispered, placing a finger on his mouth as he leaned in to kiss her. She smirked, "I made your gift myself."

* * *

**_R is well, R. If you like it, awesome, let me know. If you don't.. Let me know why in a Review.  
Sometimes my chapters for Engagement Chronicles mean something more to me than it may for readers, I think this might be one of those chapters. Which is fine, if you don't understand and like it, thats fantastic. But if you do, I'd love to know what really made you think this time.._**

**_-Slytherinchickk_**

**_Reviews would be lovely(:_**


	19. Silver and Gold

_**Engagement Chronicles**_

_**Chapter Nineteen:**_ _**Silver or Gold**_

* * *

There was something about the reflection of his face in the glass that unnerved him. He'd been standing there for just barely five minutes, the shine on the diamonds, settled perfectly in the center of miniature maroon pillows, some in stands, others in a separate case all their own, mocking him from beneath the glass.

"Can I help you, sir.. sirs?" Someone asked, uneasily. Oliver looked up quickly, registering the saleswoman frightened expression somewhere in the back of his mind. It was no wonder she was frightened really, as they were all, as in all three of them, receiving strange looks from all of the muggles present. Oliver was drenched from the rain, and covered from head to toe on his right side in mud. Fred and George, standing on either side of him, were more presentable; dressed in muggle attire, minus their flashing vests. The bandages that wrapped around George's head didn't help much, but they weren't as bad a distraction as the mud dripping from his navy-blue robes.

"No thanks," he said aloud, looking along the rest of the display.

Fred – Or maybe it was George? - nudged him with his elbow. "Sometime today, Wood," he said. One of the twins stepped over to a separate display, quietly engaging the pretty saleswoman at the other counter into conversation. The other, grabbed hold of Oliver by his elbow and drug him towards a display across the room, leaving a trail of mud and water behind them.

"Since all you've been able to do is stare in awe since we've arrived," George started, "I'll pick the ring." Oliver opened his mouth to retort but all that came out was a meek sound of disagreement. George chuckled and snapped his fingers. A salesman came to them a moment later.

"See anything you like?" he asked with a smile, gesturing to the pair of wedding bands on display. Oliver watched the mans eyes travel downwards, which was when he realized he and George were practically holding hands. "I'll go get the key and you can try them on then, shall I?"

"We're.. No.. Sir-," Oliver started to protest.

"Lighten up, Woody," George chuckled, checking to make sure no one was looking before he removed his wand from his purple vest. He tapped the glass case and muttered a spell. "You know Sadie better than us, probably better than anyone," at that Fred appeared at his side, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Oliver rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Would you hold out your hand, then?" the salesman said, returning with a identical set of rings to the ones in the case they stood before.

It took a minute, and another for the salesman to recover from the confusion of the situation. Even as they were led to a different counter, the salesman didn't look convinced of the story they'd told him. "So, your bride then," the man, Richard, from his name plate, began. "Does she wear expensive things?"

Oliver looked over the rings, they were flashy. Incredibly so. Diamonds were splattered around the entire band of one and a thumb sized sapphire sat atop them all. Another was bedecked with crystals of all colors. A third held a large square pink diamond encrusted with smaller jewels.

"Yes.. I mean no, wait-" He could feel heat climb his cheeks.

George laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, answering for him he said, "only on special occasion."

The salesman looked down towards the case of rings beneath the glass, a smirk playing on his mouth. The man wanted to laugh at him. _Him, Oliver Wood, reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United, top of his class his year at Hogwarts. And this muggle wanted to laugh at him. _Sweet Merlin, he'd been spending to much time with Sadie. Of course, that was the point, wasn't it? Part of him, wanted to run. The other part, the more controlling part of him, planted his feet and dug in his heels.

What was it she had said? His focus was lost. A memory played for him behind his eyes.

_It had been his fifth year, their fourth._  
_  
"Better warn Madam Pomfrey, Sadie," Cedric shouted, kneeling down next to him on the Quidditch pitch. He faintly heard her laugh, as she ran down to meet them.  
__He hoisted himself up onto his elbows, making a face at Cedric who just grinned back at him. He thought the yellow in Cedric's robes were blinding, until he turned his head to watch Sadie continue toward them and caught the sun in his eye. He groaned and his head dropped back to the ground. _

_Her hand smoothed the hair back from his forehead, he heard Cedric fumble around with his Quidditch robes, searching for his wand. "You sure know how to pick them, Lewis."_

_Sadie chuckled glancing up at Cedric then back down at him. "Bad luck I assume," she laughed again. "Just closed my eyes and pointed."_

He returned to the present, sucking in a deep breath he closed his eyes and-

"How about a custom ring?" the sales clerk intelligently suggested. "You can choose the placing and size of the diamonds, as well as the type and cut."

He let out that breath he'd sucked in, in relief, nodded.

Fred and George exchanged knowing glances behind him.

A short while later, filling out a form to have the ring made, Oliver smiled to himself. _Finally_, he thought, as the sales woman walked away with the form. Then she turned around, and headed back toward him. He inwardly groaned, the twins sagged beside him, sighing loudly in complaint.

"One more decision, sir, promise," she said. "Silver or Gold?"

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_**I'M ALIVE! HOLD YOUR FIRE, I updated, see^.. Keep your tomatoes.. save them on the off chance this is the last time I'm ever struck with something creative in mind.  
No, no he did not propose.  
**__**Yes, yes I meant for that to happen.  
I don't even remember the last time I updated. I couldn't tell you what happened between then and now besides that I got extremely busy, extremely fast. So, with that in mind, I pray you forgive me for this extremely late update. - The idea literally came to me not even an hour ago.  
**_

_**Reviews would be lovely(:  
**_


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